Biography of Patrick Barrington
Patrick William Daines Barrington, 11th Viscount Barrington of Ardglass (29 October 1908 – 6 April 1990) was an Irish peer and a writer of humorous verse.
He was the son of the Hon. Walter Bernard Louis Barrington and Eleanor Nina Snagge. He was educated at Eton College and at Magdalen College, Oxford University. He is remembered for his humorous verse, which was featured in Punch Magazine during the 1930s. A collection of his poems, including his best-known work, The Diplomatic Platypus, was published:
On 4 October 1960 he succeeded to the titles of 5th Baron Shute of Becket, co. Berks; 11th Viscount Barrington of Ardglass, co. Down; and 11th Baron Barrington of Newcastle, Co. Limerick. On his death, his titles became extinct.
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Patrick Barrington Poems
I Had A Hippopotamus
I had a Hippopotamus, I kept him in a shed And fed him upon vitamins and vegetable bread I made him my companion on many cheery walks And had his portrait done by a celebrity in chalk
The Diplomatic Platypus
I had a duck-billed platypus when I was up at Trinity, With whom I soon discovered a remarkable affinity. He used to live in lodgings with myself and Arthur Purvis, And we all went up together for the Diplomatic Service.
I Was A Bustlemaker Once, Girls
When I was a lad of twenty and was working in High Street, Ken., I made quite a pile in a very little while - I was a bustle maker then. Then there was work in plenty, and I was a thriving man But things have decayed in the bustle making trade, since the bustle making trade began.
My Love Is Theosophist
My love is a Theosophist And reads the Ramayana; Her luncheon is a pot of tea, Her breakfast a banana.
There's havoc on the staircase where the guests come streaming, Shirt-fronts shining and tiaras gleaming,
I Met A Lady In The Wood
I met a lady in the wood. No mortal maid, I knew, was she; She was no thing of flesh and blood, No child of human ancestry.
When I Was Young And Ignorant
When I was young and ignorant I loved a Miss McDougall, Our days were spent in happiness, although our means were frugal;
There's havoc on the staircase where the guests come streaming,
Shirt-fronts shining and tiaras gleaming,
Frail folk shuddering and stout folk steaming --
Steaming in the heat of the fray.
Midnight striking and the strife appalling,
Strong men staggering and weak men falling,
And deep in the heart of me a still voice calling:
'Make for the buffet while you may.