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
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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