At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
His toga rumpled high above his knees
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
And let you off from your opinions glum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum