Saturday, November 15, 2014
'Our Lords and Knights, and Gentry too, doe mean old fashions to forgoe:
They set a porter at the gate, that none must enter in thereat.
They count it a sin, when poor people come in.
Hospitality it selfe is drown'd.
Yet let's be content, and the times lament, you see the world turn'd upside down.'
I read the news today, Oh Boy!
The first are complaining of being last,
the ins are wailing 'out!'
The dead are alive
and the living dead,
and the world turn'd upside down.
The man with three houses
complains about the man with four
as if he hadn't two sticks to rub together.
If Concorde were alive,(still self-adored)
he'd be a bored, abhorred, aboard.
Pass the champagne,comrade.
So long one foot in the grave,
so long forging the nails of the coffin,
it now MUST be said,
it is time to call it,' tis time to pronounce,
poetry is , dead, dead , dead.