Sold at the tabac.

She’s said too only go for men 

Born before 1964 dying to dry cure 

Flip six and nine 

too set the rules of tongues 

ducks hanging found wrapped 

in published cartoon’s no excuses 

When there’s a dubious Smoking room 

whatever sold out of  

Necessity born convention 

As you unroll your eyes at tabac window

with causual advice taken from Scottish 

mutineers of love affairs with the 

Cricket and five penguins go roasting 

In southwest Pacific island of Piccadilly

passing the salt to season too taste the 

Widows contain a background 

checking berth.