Where have all the decent Englishmen gone?

On visiting another beautiful, good-natured, principled woman with her English partner manipulating and exploiting her

Dirty doors, dirty floors

Treated with less respect than

The most mistreated of

Cheap whores

Dear Reader, I’m an empathetic soul

I could feel her weakened state, her mental sores

Stained sofa, and more spills than clean spaces

On the cushions and the carpet

Her generosity fought his spitefilled meanness

Dear Reader, t’was the site of a spiritual war

She survived in the trenches

Of blinding numbness to his maggoty creepiness

To the bathroom I escaped

I needed to take a breath, and refresh

Alas, that was another foolish hope

Dear Reader, there was no paper, there was no soap

Looking for a towel,

Shall I with laughter, howl?

I returned with disgust

And he with dirty jeans, and unkempt grey hair

Jumped about as if he’d scored a goal

Dear Reader, the evening meal commenced

Still wearing my coat, I was perched on the edge of the sofa,

He handed me a small, mean, half-filled bowl.

You might ask, where were the glasses,

Was there water? Where the napkin, the salt and the pepper?

Dear Reader, you didn’t get the picture

This couple were not able to even, provide a table

But the Englishman did inherit £30,000, that he hoarded,

While with her, as a moocher, he boarded and lorded

Is this the way of English grace?

Their enlightened allegedly, developed state?

Treat your guest like a god, is the mantra of the East

Dear Reader, beware the facade, of a castle

Enter, and you could find yourself facing

A demon, a blood-sucking, unclean beast

Worst still, in heat.

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