At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
The best of all things to an end must come