The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze For tea cucumber sandwiches a scone Old corned-beef's rusty armour spreads disease One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone O Parthenon you hold the charger's strings With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave Such merchandise a melancholy brings Through homestead hillside woodland rock and cave The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess In Indian summers Englishmen drink grog Watching manure and compost coalesce Lobsters for sale must be our apologue Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some A wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb