The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb