1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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