At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The Turks said just take anything you please
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?