1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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