Poetry, Pope, Pimpernel, and Sleepover Friday

Ria and I are having a sleepover, at which we intended to watch John Paul II, but were obliged to settle for The Scarlet Pimpernel. Just having completed that elegant, chivalrous movie, we wanted to post some poetry for Friday before it ceased to be Friday. Here ye are.

"Why shouldn't I have a purely vegetarian drink? Why shouldn't I take vegetables in their highest form, so to speak? The modest vegetarians ought to stick to wine or beer, plain vegetable drinks, instead of filling their goblets with the blood of bulls and elephants, as all conventional meat-eaters do, I suppose"--Dalroy. You will find me drinking rum, Like a sailor in a slum, You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian You will find me drinking gin In the lowest kind of inn Because I am a rigid Vegetarian. So I cleared the inn of wine, And I tried to climb the sign, And I tried to hail the constable as "Marion." But he said I couldn't speak, And he bowled me to the Beak Because I was a Happy Vegetarian. Oh, I know a Doctor Gluck, And his nose it had a hook, And his attitudes were anything but Aryan; So I gave him all the pork That I had, upon a fork Because I am myself a Vegetarian. I am silent in the Club, I am silent in the pub., I am silent on a bally peak in Darien; For I stuff away for life Shoving peas in with a knife, Because I am a rigid Vegetarian. No more the milk of cows Shall pollute my private house Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian I will stick to port and sherry, For they are so very, very, So very, very, very, Vegetarian. Hmmm. Well, that took some time (the computer's feeling sluggish), but, believe us, it was Friday when we began. Good Morning, and we're off to bed. P.s. Yes, Poem Hunter again.