1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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