At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
The best of all things to an end must come