1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
← OPEN dataBase