The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
The showman gargles fire and sword with ease
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
And let you off from your opinions glum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum