1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum
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