The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum