1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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