The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
The genealogist with field and fess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
The bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum