1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
← OPEN dataBase