At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb