1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
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
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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