At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum