1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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