1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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