At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
That suede ferments is not at all well known
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum