1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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