I was proud, I was tall, as I woke up at noon
I had conquered and won, on my costume the gold
of awards I’ve deserved for just being an earl.
I was born and was fed with your silvery spoons
I have pawned for my snuff-box and silk handkerchiefs
but I carry the keys; I can enter; our name’s
more important dear father than number’s achieved.
Why disinherit me now? why call me your shame?
Victoria is asking us to brighten up a the dark autumn by writing with humor at MTB. I have tried using a little sarcasm here. I tried to use anapestic meter to make it a little funny to. But I think it’s a little dated perhaps, I think this would have been a more satisfactory ending for the vain Robert Ferrars.
October 22, 2015