The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
It's one of many horrid happenings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
And let you off from your opinions glum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb