1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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