11/05/2026
Regency promenade
In well lit space difining oneself,
in brightly candled room,
legs adorned in silken tights,
and well heeled buckled boots,
with crystal chandelier on high,
reflections born of fire,
dancing about portraited halls,
hereditary line inspired,
not a care for those born,
of stricken dingy dark,
who fight in wars Napoleon spewed,
so we can keep what is ours,
handkerchief about our face,
when visiting the slum,
so they can know about themselves,
that charity has come.
In darkness consumed though not bent,
fresh from conflict and warship brig,
with suspicious eyes and ill intent,
we view the powdered wigs,
in patterned calico our women dress,
shoddy worn by very poor,
in a single candle room is blessed,
on a wooden cornered store,
a smirk upon a beauty spot,
upon ill-favoured face,
the makeup fine we often jest,
features a rat will chase,
knowing they depend on us,
for maintaining of their wares,
only in the land we trust,
and show them not a care.