Greetings, illiterates!
From an aristocratic bum.
My train of rags trail behind me as I stroll down litter street.
I drink free tea and box wine,
Soaring in the classical.
And I always, always put my pinky out.
I sense my own superiority,
While working at a lowly job.
I treat fools with smug contempt,
But wear a tolerant smile,
All the while.
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