1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum