1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
← OPEN dataBase