At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum