The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Watching manure and compost coalesce
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum