1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum