1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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