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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
← OPEN dataBase