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Noblesse Oblige (Free verse) by Christof
Five oak chairs. There once were six
But some fat fool leaned back too hard
While passing the port.
They'll fetch less now the set is gone.
It's a crime because
Her father's forefather picked them up
In sixteen-something in an Irish bog
He was taming for Cromwell. See,
The family has always believed in democracy.
So, in memory
Of her night in a van with a plasterer
Who reeked of lager but you had to love
His orphanage face and his hopeless laughter
When she told him, see, I'm no ordinary daughter,
She's selling her father's chairs
To raise cash for the Socialist Worker.