At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
The best of all things to an end must come