1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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