1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum