The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum