1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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