1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress
12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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