At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
His nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum