The Squire, with his cronies had drunkenly revelled.
Now, on the morrow, they felt highly dishevelled.
The Earl had vomited, in the vestibule, from excessive drink,
The Marquis and Duke held, their noses against the stink.
Now, the Butler’s day off, who would clean up the mess?
It had to be none other, than the fastidious Marquess.
The Squire, through a night of debauchery, he’d made it,
Somewhat piqued was he, and most decidedly jaded!

Fittingly, the Lord Mayor, was drunk as a lord,
Remarking, of the whiskey, “Excellent, ‘pon my word!”
The Lieutenant Governor, still smelling of gin,
Was lurching about, head in a spin.
His good-lady wife, to mark her disapproval,
Suggested that his presence was fit for removal.

So, what had led to this unseemly debauch?
Such overindulgence, their senses to scorch?
It seems that the Prince of Paucity, that inveterate clown,
Had flown in from Pauce, was visiting town.
Being a lout, so full of false smiles,
He had ‘phoned the Squire, for a night on the tiles.
“The good lady, she declined to be present,”
“Preferring to stay with her mother a peasant!”
Consequently he was thinking, “a night with the boys!”
Only aristocratic ones, of course, with bucks-party type joys.
He knew he must be careful, just how he did move,
For his good lady would clearly disapprove!