At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The Turks said just take anything you please
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
When dried the terrapin can naught express
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?