1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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