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
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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