His Castle

Before her necking bout with Freedom's blade,
The Queen of France would play the lowly maid;
And so today, our British man of fashion
(Who rivals her for breasts, as for compassion)
Must share the workman's joys, humble and pleasant,
In knocking up a shed while shooting pheasant.
The British worker's modest pride is seen
In how he keeps his hovel warm and clean:
Wool insulation for the walls and floor,
Hard wood to keep the homeless from the door.
When labour's done, he rests his weary head
Austerely, on a double sofa bed
Which local fauna hope is amply big
For purple porker, as for sucking-pig.

Max Stoneyvest