At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The genealogist with field and fess
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
And let you off from your opinions glum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?