At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum