1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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