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
With cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
Old Galileo's Pisan offerings
Were pots graffiti'd over by a slave
In salads all chew grubs before they've wings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
With gravity at gravity's great cog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum