1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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