1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5Old Galileo’s Pisan offerings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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