1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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