The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
They both are right not untamed mutterings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
And let you off from your opinions glum
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum