1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come
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