1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum