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Brogues are best (Free verse) by Stephen Robins

The attire for feet of aspiring rogues, The inimitable comfort of Church's brogues, Perfectly designed for pleasurable walking, What else would you choose to stalk in? Best worn with tweed and never morning dress, Take them off last when you undress, Brown at the weekend, black in the club, A verucca brogue to be worn, alone, in the tub. Treat your brogues as you would a young lady, Use a shoe horne and slide in them gently, Pay particular care to the state of the heel, Lest you come undone in Church when you kneel. No loafers for me, nay, nor your boots, For only a true gentleman knows when one shoots, One will appear as a parvenu, Unless one has a pattern 'pon the front of one's shoe.

-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. 5-Oct-04/7:55 PM
It pains me to relate the tale
Of how my loins became so frail.
'twas long ago, when just like you,
I was young, and foolish too.
My misspent youth was Poulaine-free:
I'm not the man I used to be!
How spritely I did pounce in shame!
Unburden'd by the great poulaine!
Leaping gaily through the town,
O'er pointed rail and skulking browne*,
'till one morn my footing failed
And 'pon an fence I was impaled!
Ne'er again the brogueish sheath
To cling upon my underneath:
A pointed shoe now does protrude
From my mangled, dangled lewd.

*browne n. An ethnic hobo or street urchin; a stain.




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