1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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