At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum