We Happy Breed

In Flanders field a happy rat
Dined well upon a soldier's face,
Minced fine from helping save the place
For Freedom, Empire, King and Fat.

Our hero flourished as he fed
(So many tender morsels here!)
And married well; and year on year
His dynasty grinned, gnawed and bred.

Thus, on this anniversary,
His tribe pause their directorships
To bow their heads, and lick their lips
For all the banquets yet to be.

Victor Eatwell