1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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