1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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