At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The genealogist with field and fess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb