At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
The best of all things to an end must come