1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum