1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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