1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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