1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum
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