1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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