At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
The best of all things to an end must come