SOrcha:

Dinna fasch thysel', my Queen!!

'Tis ever such with royal heights
Nabobs and natterers relish in delights
Of carping and defiling names too high
Their limping comprehension to apply
And thus, with waste and riprap, lay they siege
To reach, in puny ire, noble liege.
Care not, nor let the sordid band
Dismay thy royal brow, nor stay thy royal hand!
'Twas ever thus, the noblesse doit oblige'

Regards,


A


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