1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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