The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
The Turks said just take anything you please
That suede ferments is not at all well known
They both are right not untamed mutterings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum