In the waning weaning of the Raj,

there sprang about a certain Rog,

who sought to make his fortune,

a bit larger and bit more certain.


This fellow, this Harry Forth,

tried in vain to increase his worth.

He traded gold, he traded tea,

sold land and chartered sea.


Then, one day, and what a day,

he stumbled on a snail upon a quay.

He scooped it up and took it hence

to doctor who made incense.


The doctor took one look,

then bought a typewriter and wrote a book,

leaving Harry standing there,

crumpled pages in his hair.


"Look, here, you," he began to rail,

"What's so **** ***** about this snail?"

The doctor said without missing a key,

"This is the fastest snail on the seven seas!"


"It is an Indonesian Racing Snail," he said.

"Any caught possessing one will lose his head.

They are raised in hidden Royal ponds,

upon caviar, Welsh rarebit, and fronds."


"If you have a lick of sense,

You'll put it back ere hence,

before the Royal Guards arrive

and relieve you of your life."



And then the most amazing thing

happened to surprise the men!

The snail waved an antenna,

and began to speak to the menna!



"You need not worry of Royal wrath,

for there is none to follow my path,

as all are deceased, including my kind

and none are left for you to mind."



"A dynasty, a land, a people, if you please,

all brought down by an Anabaptist's sneeze,

and for lack of a tissue,

a thousand year reign died with it's issue.



"Only I alone escaped to tell the tale,

by canoe, steamer and sail,

and hope to let the world

know how much danger lies in a cold."



With a shriek, the two educated swots

filled the snail with .455 shots,

inoculating it into the great beyond,

where it could live on heavenly fronds.



The Harry looked at the doctor,

and the doctor left his rocker,

and the two went out and got drunk,

before they could stop and thunk.



So, neighbors, enemies and friends,

the moral of the story is,

Be careful what you pick up on the quay,

'cause you might have to get drunk that day!