A portrait of an Englishman
An Englishman's home is his castle
An Englishman's club is his home
An Englishman's life is a puzzle:
Wherever he is - he's alone
His mind's entangled with riddles
Invented by him in his sleep
His love is a cushion of needles
His soul is locked up somewhere deep...
Too deep to be reached by another,
Well hidden by motionless mask
An Englishman's work is a bother
And finding peace is his task
His gods wear glamorous crowns
His dogs wear collars like ties
His verbs often turn into nouns
And only he knows where truth lies...
His chums last well over their lifetimes
And come to him from beyond grave
He's seen with his family - sometimes...
And then he tries hard to behave...
I could go on praising and cursing
Observing his habits and whims...
But no words describe well his person...
And I just ran out of Pimms!...
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of Ima Von Wenden unless otherwise stated.
Unauthorized reproduction, copying, distribution, or use of the material for commercial purposes is strictly prohibited.
Unauthorized reproduction, copying, distribution, or use of the material for commercial purposes is strictly prohibited.