At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
And let you off from your opinions glum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum