1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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