The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
The peasants's skirts on rainy days she'd tress
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
But I can understand you Brogher Gog
And let you off from your opinions glum
A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb