At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
The understanding critic firstly sees
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum