The Insulting of the Peasant

One morning in the manor yard,
Two gents did burble brightly,
Of the turbid times and taxes hard,
And gallant fables knightly!

In the fervor of their frivoled flap,
A peasant wandered stumbly,
Through the orchid patch and Venus traps,
And fell before them humbly.

And O the gents did spray forth tea,
Through puckered lips disgusted,
As the first one globbed with thus decree:
"You splurgid hillock crusted!

"Art you lost of brainy matter, sir,
Or art you simply stolid!?
You do not succeed a mangy cur;
You are hardly worth a bullet!

"O, what sprattle wrought your flurbid form;
What beast took time to birth you?!
You incite me, then, to vomit storms,
And place an evening curfew!

"I can hardly fathom properly,
The pleasance of your species,
You foetid splotch of spoilt piss,
You rankin sack of feces!"

So spake the firstly gent thereof;
The second sauntered spritely,
Towards the brownish, blobbish man whereof,
He sermoned peasant rightly:

"If you'll bid me pardon, peasant, please;
My mode is not humane;
Whereupon my punishment shall cease,
You'll not be quite so sane!

"In your closet I'll stuff thirty cod,
A salmon in each shoe,
In your pants go seven sturgeon odd,
Ten tuna in your loo!

"In your knickers I'll shove fifty carp,
A swordfish in each sleeve,
And a crab shall play such horrid harp,
Inside your sweaty greaves!

"Now I must admit apology,
For the terrors there instilled,
But on seeing your biology,
I'd say it fits the bill!"

So sullen sought insult they bore,
The peasant rose against,
And thus those gents he did abhor,
With puerile pestilence:

"You spruppled sprouts abgunct of grace!
You strumpets slopped of shame!
Art you blind of eye or globbed of face,
And don't you know my name?!

"I am Edward Alexander Price,
Sebastian Robert Cole;
I have ruled this land for decade thrice,
I'm King you fluppered foals!

"Now be off upon your teasome routs,
You prightly piles of goop!"
So the King returned to throne so stout,
And outlawed eating soup.