1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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