The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum