Something a little different. A generalisation. The English gentleman has slipped into the realms of myth and caricature, but attitudes of some with good-fortune endure.
Wisdom the owl
Sat on his perch,
The vicars and priests
Stood in the church.
But Mervin D stood by the bar:
He who owned the large Daimler car.
He told all around how
He worked all his life
Deserved what he had,
Even his wife.
He told of his luck
His sweat and his tears
How respected he was by his
Equals, his peers.
He said naught of his luck
By birth and of right
Of his tricks of the trade
His cunning and slight.
He looked down on them all
As inferior cases
At his beck and call
To do up his laces.
The whisky was ripe, his
Nose like a plum
His eyes felt heavy:
He’d end with a rum.
He left with a laugh
A curse and a wave
And he revved up the car
A final ‘hi ho!’ he gave
Old or young
Rich or poor
When it comes to the end
Death opens the door
and
We’re all the same
Of that be sure!
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