The acid tongue with gourmet's expertise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
He bent right down and well what did he seize
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
And yet 'twas he the beggar Fate just flings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
A daring baron pockets precious Mings
As sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
With gravity at gravity's great cog
From cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
The Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum