Decadence
Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (3851 reads)The Prince, they say, has had his day
And it was proud and high;
And now you meet him in the street
On foot as you and I.
And though you not his shabby coat,
A monocle he sports,
And has the flair so débonnaire
Of protocols and courts.
The Prince is lean, his lips are green,
His face is putty grey;
A meal of meat he cannot eat
Because he cannot pay.
From Savile Row of long ago
A threadbare suit he wears,
Yet as I pass he cocks his glass
And stonily stares.
Bu yesterday upon my way
His haughtiness I met,
And such his glance of arrogance
I dropped my cigarette,
For very shy and meek am I,
Yet as I turned around
I saw him quick bend down and pick
My fag off the ground.
And so this morn I braved his scorn
As in the sun we strolled;
A mild gold-flake I begged him take
From my case of gold.
Sour as a quince I saw him wince,
His eye-glass he produced.
"No thanks" said he; "Hum! pardon me -
Have we been introduced?"
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