The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum