At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Bard I adore your endless monologue
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb