Two poems by Hilaire Belloc

[wellinghall]

Lord Lucky
Lord Lucky, by a curious fluke,
Became a most important duke.
From living in a vile Hotel
A long way east of Camberwell

He rose, in less than half an hour,
To riches, dignity and power.
It happened in the following way:--

The Real Duke went out one day
To shoot with several people, one
Of whom had never used a gun.
This gentleman (a Mr. Meyer
Of Rabley Abbey, Rutlandshire),

As he was scrambling through the brake,
Discharged his weapon by mistake,
And plugged about an ounce of lead
Piff-bang into his Grace's Head----
Who naturally fell down dead.

His heir, Lord Ugly, roared, "You Brute!
Take that to teach you how to shoot!"
Whereat he volleyed, left and right;
But being somewhat short of sight,
His right-hand Barrel only got
The second heir, Lord Poddleplot;

The while the left-hand charge (or choke)
Accounted for another bloke,
Who stood with an astounded air
Bewildered by the whole affair
--And was the third remaining heir.

After the Execution (which
Is something rare among the Rich)
Lord Lucky, while of course he needed
Some help to prove their claim, succeeded.

--But after his succession, though
All this was over years ago,
He only once indulged the whim
Of asking Meyer to lunch with him.

Lord Finchley
Lord Finchley tried to mend the Electric Light
Himself.
It struck him dead: And serve him right!
It is the business of the wealthy man
To give employment to the artisan.

Comments

[parrot-knight.livejournal.com]

I knew Lord Finchley, but not Lord Lucky - despite it being a remote cousin, though on a more respectable branch of the same tree, to Kind Hearts and Coronets.

[wellinghall.livejournal.com]

I would not be at all surprised to find that one was the inspiration for the other.