Friday, August 1, 2025

Lord Lucky


Lord Lucky

Lord Lucky, by a curious fluke,
Became a most important duke.
From living in a vile Hotel
A long way east of Camberwell
He rose, in less than half an hour,
To riches, dignity, and power.
It happened in the following way:
The Real Duke went out one day
To shoot with several people, one
Of whom had never used a gun.
This gentleman (a Mr Meyer
Of Rabley Abbey, Rutlandshire),
As he was scrambling through the brake,
Discharged his weapon by mistake,
And plugged about an ounce of lead
Piff-bang into his Grace's Head--
Who naturally fell down dead.
His Heir, Lord Ugly, roared, 'You Brute!
Take that to teach you how to shoot!'
Whereat he volleyed, left and right;
But being somewhat short of sight,
His right-hand barrel only got
The second heir, Lord Poddleplot;
The while the left-hand charge (or choke)
Accounted for another bloke,
Who stood with an astounded air
Bewildered by the whole affair
--And was the third remaining heir.
After the Execution (which
Is something rare among the Rich)
Lord Lucky, while of course he needed
Some help to prove his claim, succeeded.
--But after his succession, though
All this was over years ago,
He only once indulged his whim
Of asking Meyer to lunch with him.
 
-Hilaire Belloc
 
The poem is mostly written in iamic tetrameter couplets, but two of the three deaths get a third rhyme. Poor Lord Poddleplot doesn't even get that third rhyme.

Whenever I think of this poem I'm always reminded of Kind Hearts and Coronets, though Lord Lucky is lucky in ways the Alec Guinness character--in any of his shapes--is distinctly not...
 
 
 

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