1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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