Napoleon Napoleon was a little guy: They used to call him Shorty. He only stood about so high. His chest was under forty But when folks started talking mean. His pride it didn’t injure: ‘My queen,’ he’d say to Josephine, ‘The thing that counts is ginger.’ He got too fat. We all know that From portraits in the galleries. He never seemed to learn the knack Of laying off the calories. But though his waist was large, he faced And overcame all foemen. He knew quite well it’s brains that tell And not a guy’s abdomen. |
English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |