1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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