1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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