1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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