The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
The Turks said just take anything you please
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
A piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
Socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
Soliloquies predict great things old chum