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
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The genealogist with field and fess
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
The best of all things to an end must come