To the subjective mind of the combat crunchie and cannon cocker, executing with his legs, sweat, and often his life, the grand designs …

They had run through all punishments, and just 'scaped the fork

For I have swept along To foam ashriek with gulls, and rowed behind Brown oarsmen swinging to an ocean song

A hacky cough. A hacky laugh. A hacky breath. A hacky howl.