When one with t'other straightaway agrees
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
The understanding critic firstly sees
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb