The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
Her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
That suede ferments is not at all well known
O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
The fertile mother changelings drops like kings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
A bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
And let you off from your opinions glum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum