He bent right down to pick up his valise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum