Class war

Dash it all, I’m fit to bust,
Never been so bally cussed!
My reputation is in tatters,
and everything that matters
has gone sailing down the
drainpipe of disgust.

How can a chap survive
when his little sweetheart wive
was found wrestling with a flunkey
in the dust?

I could maybe bear a monkey
or even p’raps a donkey,
but I draw the line at working-class amours.
How could she stoop so low!
I guess I’ll never know
what my sweetheart sees
in beefy hunky flunkeys.


 

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