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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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