The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
His toga rumpled high above his knees
And loudly sang off-key without a tone
How it suprised us pale grey underlings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
To break a rule Britannia's might might waive
Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
Or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
And played their mountain croquet jungle chess
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum