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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum