1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
← OPEN dataBase