The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
What things we did we went the whole darned hog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
Soliloquies predict great things old chum