At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
In purest cradels tha's how they behave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum