At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum