1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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