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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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