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
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum