1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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