1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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