At five precisely out went La Marquise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
With gravity at gravity's great cog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
The best of all things to an end must come