1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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