1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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