Like a peacock she struts in her farthingale skirt,
Changing her shift every day.
The rest of us live in the filth and the dirt;
It’s simply the Tudor way.
Teeth that are blackened by rich sugar sweets,
Which are served in her Banqueting room
Following courses of home reared meat
While pottage is all I consume.
Like a goldfish on view in her mansion of glass
Her status so clearly on show
Displaying her wealth to all those who pass
(As if we poor peasants don’t know!)
Changing her shift every day.
The rest of us live in the filth and the dirt;
It’s simply the Tudor way.
Teeth that are blackened by rich sugar sweets,
Which are served in her Banqueting room
Following courses of home reared meat
While pottage is all I consume.
Like a goldfish on view in her mansion of glass
Her status so clearly on show
Displaying her wealth to all those who pass
(As if we poor peasants don’t know!)
I got this (amazing) poem from
http://www.angelaspoems.webeden.co.uk/#/tudor-rich-and-poor/4541488825.
http://www.angelaspoems.webeden.co.uk/#/tudor-rich-and-poor/4541488825.