At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb