1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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