1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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