1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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