by: Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)
- ord 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.
POEMS BY HILAIRE BELLOC
|"Lord Lucky" is reprinted from More Peers. Hilaire Belloc. London: Stephen Swift, 1911.