1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum
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