At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb