1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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