At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?