The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With gravity at gravity's great cog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum