1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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