1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
← OPEN dataBase