1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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