1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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