At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum