When
Sir
Beelzebub called for his syllabub
In the hotel in Hell
Where Proserpine first fell
Blue as the gendarmerie were the
Waves of the sea
(Rocking and shocking the bar-maid)
Nobody comes to give him his rum
But the
Rim of the sky hippopotamus-glum
Enhances the chances to bless with
A benison
Alfred Lord Tennyson crossing the
Bar laid
With cold vegetation from pale
Deputations
Of temperance workers
(all signed in Memoriam)
Hoping with glory to trip up the
Laureate's feet
(Moving in classical metres)...
Like Balaclava, the lava came down
From the Roof, and the sea's blue
Wooden gendarmerie
Took them in charge while
Beelzebub roared for his rum
...None of them come!