The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
It's one of many horrid happenings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The genealogist with field and fess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum