The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
The understanding critic firstly sees
Normal one aims to be and share the throne
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
Shallots and sharks'fins face the smould'ring log
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum