The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
The thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
That metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
One tongue will do to keep the verse agog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
Do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
yet from the City's pie pulled not one plum