At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum