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A Manx snuff poem

RoderickRoderick Member
edited February 2019 in General
Thought I'd share a recent discovery from our new island home.


JOHN FRISSELL CRELLIN, Esq., Deemster in the Isle of Man, who died 21st June 1816, was a connoisseur in snuff, and quite at a loss if by accident he happened to be unprovided with his favourite. Once, when on the bench at Castletown, he had forgotten his box, on perceiving which, he despatched a message for it, and before its arrival wrote the following lines.

You boast of the pleasures that friendship bestows,
And tell me it drives away care,
That it softens our sorrows, assuages our woes,
And blunts e'en the stings of despair.

I too have a friend, that can always impart
Enjoyments and comforts enough,
For, obtained, is the fondest desire of my heart,
When blest with abundance of snuff.

If heaven, in its wisdom, sends sources of grief,
I'm thankful the stock is no more;
I first take a pinch, and my heart finds relief,
Then I sneeze, and my troubles are o'er.

'Tis thus I with fortitude brave every storm,
When the winds of affliction blow rough;
Let the fugitive evil assume any form,
So it be not a famine of snuff.

In search after happiness men are perplexed,
But few can the goddess obtain;
Some place her in this world, and some in the next,
But the wisest conjectures are vain.

They may tell you the nymph loves the glitter of gold,
And dwells with the miser--such stuff!
No;; my pocket has always been found her stronghold,
And her palace, a box of good snuff.

The lawyer so graye, ere he opens his plea,
In obscurity finds it is hid;
But the bright gloss of knowledge illumines his face,
As he gives the three taps on the lid.

E'en the judge on the bench hears the sound with delight,
Be his countenance ever so gruff;
He bids the stern sentence of judgment take flight,
And mercy inhales with the snuff.

Why then should poor mortals ever despair,
Or suffer from any rebuff,
When to free themselves quickly from all sorts of ease,
The infallible remedy's snuff?


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