1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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