The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum