At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
It's one of many horrid happenings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum