1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase