1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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