The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
The bull's horns ought to dry it like a bone
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
Th'outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Southern baroque's seductive dialogue
On fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?