At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?