1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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