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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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