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The Fortunes of Grandison Lee

Now Percival Gregory Grandison-Lee
He came of a fine old stock.
His sire was an eminent K.C.B,
But Percival never appeared to be
A chip off that shrewd old block.
In spite of the strain
He was weak of brain,
Though a jolly good fellow was he.
And, to tell the truth,
In his gilded youth
His manner of living was free.

Now Percival's father, the elder Lee,
Aspired to the House of Lords;
So he earnestly sought for the £ s. d.
Becoming a prominent guinea-pig, he
Was chairman of numerous Boards.
But the game was rash,
And there came a smash,
And he perished of felo-de-se.
And up to his neck,
In the subsequent wreck
Was Percival Grandison-Lee.

So Percy resigned from the King's armee;
He couldn't maintain the style.
And, after a harrowing period, he
Was faced by the spectre of bank-rupt-cee,
His schedule he had to file.
He smiled through court
Like a hardy sport,
But he sorrowed in privacee;
For an easy job
For a hard-up nob
Isn't growing on every tree.

He touched then for tenners so frequentlee
That the friends of Lee, deceased,
A length procession of loans could see,
And they whispered to one of the Ministree
As Percival's plans increased.
Thus they shipped him off
As a gilded toff
On the staff of a high grandee
To earn his bread
As a figurehead
And a Governor's A.D.C.

In that country of democrats o'er the sea
The cream of Society's cream
They worship a feathered and frilled grandee,
And e'er on his gorgeous A.D.C.
The 'nicest' are ready to beam.
His boots were tight,
And his hat was bright,
And his tie was a fantasee;
And the wealthiest girls -
Society's pearls
Just loved his refulgency.

He strolled in the wake of the high grandee
In his glittering uniform;
At frivols and functions and afternoon tea
He lolled with a manner so easy and free
That he took the girls by storm.
And he wooed a maid
Of the sheep brigade,
One of the squatocracee,
With a station Outback
And a house at Toorak,
And they wedded right merrilee.

Now Percival Gregory Grandison-Lee
In his London club doth dwell;
He squats at his ease through a deputee
That idle and valueless absentee,
And says that this land is Hell;
But once every year
For the Cup he's here,
As the master of Bungabaree;
Our well-equipped courses
And galloping horses
Are all that appeal to Lee.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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