1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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