1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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