1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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