At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum