1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
← OPEN dataBase