1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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