poesia per quattro voci: high camp
Jeremiah and Melrose, each angry and sore
Two porkies wedged – in the stage back door.
The pair stuck tight together and good will is sparse,
Day before casting, the hilarious new farce.
For my acclaimed celebrations, unfortunately I’ll be late!
Your fault undeniably, you’re grossly over weight;
My public awaits me, I’m their bonhomie knight
Like yesterday you were drunk and started a fight.
I’m not the one addicted to Chateau du Blanc
Such shallow buffoon, you impetuous Plonk;
From grubbling snollygoster, your comments to be
Like the curtain I rise with panache and dignity,
For my for coming role in Polity Society plans
But fames not for me, I do it for my fans.
Bloody kafuffle now I’m starting to freeze!
In your own time darling, now push if you please;
Well I’m not the one chasing the entire choirs’ line
Ah! I accept no criticism, you show off, you Philistine.
I‘ve attended the Baftas and Oscars you know
But as bar tender sweetie, you weren’t in the show!
For I am adored by aristocracy they’re my devotees
Oh! Spare me this ostentatious twaddle pleeeeeeease.
I could have been nominated for a Globe or Tony
Instead I’m stuck in a door way with a Shetland pony.
You should have seen my Puck, I was absolutely glorious
Well the critics said your Bottom, was painfully laborious.
And this is dashingly embarrassing, now I really must go
I’m stuck in a doorway, with Old Quasimodo;
You cast aspersions upon my obvious thespian talent,
Sir you are void of all skill and even less gallant.
The Ambassadors, Drury Lane, The Royal my dear
I see you as more slapstick, more ‘end of the pier’;
You’re abusing the toast of Saddlers Wells,
I see more burnt bread – from the Norfolk Fells.
For Polity Society, I’ll be the leading man
Mmm… I perceive you more as ‘the also ran’
I’m the hero for sure, the Producer s’ under my thumb
Ney, he dances to my tune, the gullible little bum.
An antiseptic drunk he may be, but he recognises a star
So where is that midget lush, usually smell him for a far?
Close by indeed and let me offer you a clue
Right here my lovelies, I’m right behind you;
For Polite Society you are hired my chubby misters
I‘ve caste you both together, as the ugly sisters!
Push harder man, Oh! The embarrassment, the indignity, such pain
So resigned to a supporting roll, once again.
You’re clandestine amateur, for all to know
Gossip of the choir line and caste of the show
I’m a polymath, a wordsmith, an entertainer, a devotee to the art.
Woah, so which of you Divas claim that filthy D’Oyly Carte
It was her……………….She’s polyfarting!
Call the mutton shunter, it only just starting,
Oh you bumptious personification of overbearing pomposity
Tosh! I’m the very incarnation of compassionate virtuosity.
Such a modern spornosexual eh? You cantankerous jollux,
Yuk! You unscholarly mullock raker, mind your bollocks!
I’m innocent of the stench, so putrid, so rank,
It’s you need immersing – in a septic tank!
That’s rich,
Snecklifter;
Bitch.
Push harder!
