When

Sir

Beelzebub called for his syllabub in the hotel in Hell

Where Prosperine first fell,

Blue as the gendarmerie were the waves of the sea,

(Rocking and shocking the barmaid).

Nobody comes to give him his rum but the

Rim of the sky hippopotamus-glum

Enhances the chances to bless with a benison

Alfred Lord Tennyson crossing the bar laid

With cold vegetation from pale deputations

Of temperance workers (all signed In Memoriam)

Hoping with glory to trip up the Laureate's feet,

(Moving in classical meters) ...

Like Balaclava, the lava came down from the

Roof, and the sea's blue wooden gendarmerie

Took them in charge while Beelzebub roared for his rum.

... None of them come!