1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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