When Sir Beelzebub

When

Sir

Beelzebub called for his syllabub

in the hotel in Hell

Where Proserpine first fell,

Blue as the gendarmerie were the

waves of the sea,

(Rocking and shocking the bar-maid)

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 metres)...

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!