Sir Somebody Or Other
A typical National Trust library,Timbered ceiling with dim lit wall lamps,
Books of all sizes, row after row,
The owner was a Sir Somebody or other,
With letters after his name,
A bit of a dandy who put it about,
His wife, Lady Whatshername kept it quiet,
He fathered three offspring from the village wenches,
Well, three that are known about,
Thats not mentioned on the information leaflet,
Well, it wouldn’t be would it,
The library’s oil pantings high out of reach,
Worth a fortune and all genuine,
Paid for by Sir Somebody or other,
With cash from the slave trade,
Thats not mentioned on the information leaflet,
Well, it wouldn’t be would it,
An elderly lady with pink hair and a monocle sits and writes,
She is documenting the library’s books,
And has been doing so for five years,
I know because I asked her,
I told her that Sir Somebody or other was a bit of a lad,
What with making the local ladies pregnant,
“Oh, that’s just a rumour, he was a fine upstanding man”,
I mentioned the slave trade and how it was a blemish on our history”,
And how Sir Somebody or other had reaped the befits,
She removed her monocle and said,
Very politely, in a National Trust way,
“Why do people like you visit places like this if you don’t like it”,
Now, honestly, did I say I didn’t like it,
Now did I?
Poetry by JohnJohn
Read 194 times
Written on 2023-03-07 at 07:01
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