Saturday, September 25, 2010

Victorian Ode

The streets of dear London in bygone years
Were haunted by men with long sideburns.
They wore their nice suits, though frayed at the edge,
And kept close to their vests, taciturn.
Dickensian charmers with unlikely names
Like Picklesworth, Tweedle and Frump,
They ate porridge mornings and when evening came,
Ate stew with indefinite lump.
Black were their lungs from the soot in the air,
And pale was their skin from the fog,
Dickensian men who would gather at night
To drink ale at the Hare and the Hog.
Hail to these gents who have all passed away
Three cheers for their manners so couth.
They were Victorians down to the bone,
Great Englishmen all.  Yea, forsooth.


Hope said...

interesting blog intriguing poetry
thank you

Anonymous said...

We've just come back from a visit to Dr. Samuel Johnson's home in London. Very interesting in a home hidden up narrow a walkway.
I like your poem.