1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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