1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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