1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum