At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Soliloquies predict great things old chum