1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum