At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?