Prose took the minstrel's verse without a squeeze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The genealogist with field and fess
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum