1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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