At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
The Turks said just take anything you please
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
The best of all things to an end must come