Garden party held today, invites call the debs to play,
Social climbers polish ladders,
Wayward sons again have fathers,
"Hello, dad!", "Hello, dad!"
Edgy eggs and queuing cumbers,
Rudely wakened from their slumbers
Time has come again for slaughter on the lawns by still Cam waters,
It's a slaughter, it's a slaughter
Champagne corks are firing at the sun again
Swooping swallows chased by violins again
Straafed by Strauss
They sulk in crumbling eaves again, Oh God not again!
Aperitifs consumed en masse display their owners on the grass
Couples loiter in the cloisters, social leeches quoting Chaucer
Doctor's son, a parson's daughter where, why not and should they oughta
Please don't lie upon the grass, unless accompanied by a fellow,
May I be so bold as to perhaps suggest Othello, perhaps suggest Othello
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