At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The genealogist with field and fess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum