At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum