The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
The understanding critic firstly sees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Soliloquies predict great things old chum