Cardinal Richelieu

Alas, Cardinal Richelieu

Hid all his secrets in the loo

Along with his white linen socks

And red feathers plucked from old cocks

All the necessities of state

He kept in his rose colored crate

Salted pork chops to wine his Kings

Harpsichords to stir up new flings

Gold plated relics for his Popes

A velvet glove for when he gropes

Most of all he kept his fine words

Mawkish musings o’er blessed curds

Toasts dipped in sacramental wine

War and Peace o’er plum jellied swine

His mustache so fine tailored coiffed

His cheeks bristling whenever scoffed

But nary a scandalous phrase

His clean sheets the source of much praise

For he keeps his night nurse, a Basque

His nightly enemas her task

And pays her with a squirt of milk

He keeps stored in his sequined silk

Heads of State served on gold rimmed plates

Taste the same no matter their fates

Their loosed tongues lathered with cheese

When swallowed with rum makes him sneeze

So he dispenses with liquor

To finish his meals much quicker

The Kings a belch in his belly

Buttered soft with Papal jelly

The stars all aligned in his head

His peace an iron fisted dread

But still there is nothing to fear

His countenance ever so dear

His manners as stiff as his hair

No whiff of perfume in his lair

The tyrant a saint when handsome

Our liberties pay his ransom

His soul released to Saint Peter

While we feed coins to the meter

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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