At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
The best of all things to an end must come