1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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