The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
That horders of crooks felt they'd more right to own
Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
It's one of many horrid happenings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
That every verbal shock aims to deprave
Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can't depress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
No need to cart such treasures from the fog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?