1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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