At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
And let you off from your opinions glum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb