1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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