1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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