1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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