The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
His exaltation shocked both youth and crone
Replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
With gravity at gravity's great cog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum