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Title: Lord Roehampton
Author: Hilaire Belloc [
More Titles by Belloc]
[Edward, first Earl of Lord Roehampton in the County of Surrey]
During a late election Lord
Roehampton strained a vocal chord
From shouting, very loud and high,
To lots and lots of people why
The Budget in his own opin-
-Ion should not be allowed to win.
He sought a Specialist, who said:
"You have a swelling in the head:
Your Larynx is a thought relaxed
And you are greatly over-taxed."
"I am indeed! On every side!"
The Earl (for such he was) replied
In hoarse excitement.... "Oh! My Lord,
You jeopardize your vocal chord!"
Broke in the worthy Specialist.
"Come! Here's the treatment! I insist!
To Bed! to Bed! And do not speak
A single word till Wednesday week,
When I will come and set you free
(If you are cured) and take my fee."
On Wednesday week the Doctor hires
A Brand-new Car with Brand-new Tyres
And Brand-new Chauffeur all complete
For visiting South Audley Street.
* * * * *
But what is this? No Union Jack
Floats on the Stables at the back!
No Toffs escorting Ladies fair
Perambulate the Gay Parterre.
A 'Scutcheon hanging lozenge-wise
And draped in crape appals his eyes
Upon the mansion's ample door,
To which he wades through heaps of Straw,[A]
And which a Butler drowned in tears,
On opening but confirms his fears:
"Oh! Sir!--Prepare to hear the worst!...
Last night my kind old master burst.
And what is more, I doubt if he
Has left enough to pay your fee.
The Budget----" With a dreadful oath,
The Specialist, denouncing both
The Budget _and_ the House of Lords,
Buzzed angrily Bayswaterwards.
* * * * *
And ever since, as I am told,
Gets it beforehand; and in gold.
[Note: [A] This is the first and only time That I have used this sort of Rhyme.]
[The end]
Hilaire Belloc's poem: Lord Roehampton
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