1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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