The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
The Turks said just take anything you please
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
An icicle of frozen marrow pings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum