1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum