1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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