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How To Become Rich,
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Tonight in the pub, Edward was waxing eloquent upon how to become rich, his marquise diamond ring sparkled on his pinky and his Rolls Royce waited, chauffeured, at the curb. At least he imagined the chauffeur waited, but as usual, Jeeves had ducked into the kitchen for a pint, where he was quite safe from detection, and there he enjoyed the camaraderie of the downstairs staff in a heated discussion about how to be rich, and drown in diamonds.
The conversation there is exceptionally witty and humourous, aimed as it usually is at the upstairs people, particularly those settled in deep leather chairs in the special posh room reserved for the rich. Perhaps one day, we will tarry a while there to catch up on the gossip.
It has been a most trying day for a barmaid's life is not easy, and Kathleen is tossing and turning in her bed on the pub's third floor where Molly lets her a room. The privy is down the hall and she is loathe to search for her bathrobe in the pile on the chair, for the laundry is in the basement and the three flights down and back up to throw in a load and then another six to retrieve it seemed like Sisyphus's ordeal.
In addition, one may run into one of the other boarders on the way, and lovely human beings though they may be, they have seemed somewhat startled to see her darting, déshabillé, on the several occasions when necessity spurred her to hasten there unwrapped, so to speak. Needless to say, the laundry and toothbrushing are deferred to the morrow.
Every night she falls into her lumpy bed, exhausted from her labors in the pub, her feet aching a bit, but tonight she lies there with a rare insomnia, as the light from a blinking neon outside the window intermittently bathes the room with red splashes of color.
Her eyes focus upon a stain on the ceiling from a leak in the roof, but at the favorable rates she receives, it would be ungrateful to complain of it. It has the shape of a car, quite specifically, the Silver Shadow that Edward sometimes uses to tool up to the pub.
Before flipping off the light, she had been reading F. Scott Fitzgerald, for reading is a soothing ritual from her childhood, and now that she is a grown-up she no longer requires the
flashlight under the covers
to indulge it. From the book, a quotation resonates in her head “The rich are not like you and me” and that thought sparks a cascade of thoughts which makes her wonder how to become rich, to own a fine marquise diamond ring or a Rolls Royce. She drifts off to the arms of Morpheus, wondering how to become rich, reciting the mantra &“How rich would a girl have to be…? ”
Rich Enough for Tiffany's?
How rich would a gal have to be
To buy a five caret marquis
Without batting an eyelash
Or hearing her teeth gnash
And say, “I'll take that, Tiffany. ”
Rich Enough for a Rolls Royce?
How rich would a gal have to be
To buy a Rolls Royce. Fancy-free,
Without batting an eyelash
Or hearing her teeth gnash,
Just “This is the one, where's the key?”
How To Become Rich? Ah, the dreams are free!
Rich Enough for a Famous Spa?
How rich would a gal have to be
To go to a spa, dei Bagni?
Without batting an eyelash
Or hearing her teeth gnash,
Trying life as a crass debauchee.
Rich Enough to Attend High Tea?
How rich would a gal have to be
For the Queen to invite her to tea?
Without batting an eyelash
Or hearing her teeth gnash,
To advise her on good policy.
Rich Enough to Live on Pennsylvania Avenue?
How rich would a gal have to be
To live in the White House for free
Without batting an eyelash
Or hearing her teeth gnash,
For eight years, soaking up pedigree.
How To Become Rich? Have we all not wondered?
Please do not forget to attribute to Jeannette Ramirez as author unless otherwise noted. Webmasters, thank you for supporting this project by linking. For the poem count at Here Be Limerick Poems visit our home page.
