The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
He bent right down and well what did he seize
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum