The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Platonic Greece was not so talentless
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum