The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
That suede ferments is not at all well known
They both are right not untamed mutterings
When flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
On wheels the tourist follows hos hostess
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum