1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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