At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
The understanding critic firstly sees
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
The best of all things to an end must come