1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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