1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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