1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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