The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum