At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
The Turks said just take anything you please
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum