1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum