1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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