At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum