palace flunkies on roll calls
doormen and fetchers of spittle pots
valets sweeping up dusty words to share
down swept snowflakes without forms or essence
I trigger to action for limpid white down feathers needs fluffing
soft brains in scullery needs attention to earn a kings shilling for nowt
write me a rhyme without reason for I am a Duke to your page
a perfumed knight of the realm to your ***** scallywags
a learned scholar to your bevvy of pea-brains
hold your furry tongues or lick my boots
give the finger to your assed fathers
your gin births made in alleys
steal the spittle pots to use
you need it more for
the bile of your
stations in
life