The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
And empty cages show life's bird has flown
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
With marble souvenirs then fill a slum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum