At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
The colonel's still escutcheoned in undress
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
And let you off from your opinions glum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum