1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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