1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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