Classic Poem

You had won much renown as a barber in town
And then got a knighthood by fraud
Of an amorous lady — the business was shady
And led you to hurry abroad;
Now your living is gone and the years will drag on,
I pity your idle condition,
You cannot profess to teach grammar — much less
To be an expert rhetorician;
Philosophical preaching is vain, so is teaching,
No hope at the bar you can harbour,
And the claque is no good — so you can't if you would
Be anything else but a barber.