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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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