Bobo, my smelling salts! The air is fetid With last night's ordure. Quick, a cushion, page! My back is breaking. Has the king been seated? Who is that creature bawling on the stage? Open the door, boy; whence comes all that knocking? Ah, Marquis, charmed! Pray find yourself a chair. The rabble hissed you? Why, how very shocking! And called you names? I don't see how they'd dare! Whatever are we coming to! I wonder What France would seem if all that dirty horde Should gain control -- the Jacobins who thunder Along Boul' Miche. I'm sure we should be bored. Dear me, they're rising! Pray, my lord, assist me. It's the Du Barry. La, he's gone and kissed me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR LORD AND OUR LADY by HILAIRE BELLOC WHAT I'VE BELIEVED IN by JAMES GALVIN SUPREME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |