At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Bard I adore your endless monologue
And let you off from your opinions glum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum