Lowbrow Hightail Poem by Aaron Marchant

A dozen years of schooling, five more for a degree
a further two to cultivate a sage philosophy.
An answer for each question. An erudite retort.
A virtuous affectation and impeccable comport.

The etiquette thought requisite for genteel conversation
an adroit use of vocabulary and crisp annunciation
at last an opportunity to put it to the test
whilst assuming a demeanor that's been borrowed from the best

So, sporting 'hacking jacket' fashioned out of musty tweed,
stiff brogues and corduroy trousers a bizarre shade of seaweed
and an 'old school tie' bearing the crest of Byron's Alma mata
I cycled into Henley for the annual regatta

Here, I felt sure I'd be welcomed by the great and good elites
the educated classes, intellectuals and aesthetes
Yet the well-bred, well-connected, the well-heeled and well-to-do
Were not at all well-disposed to a penniless parvenu

Their attitude to newcomers was anything but kind
and their petty, puerile antics, both boorish and unrefined
If these be representative of high class intellect,
then, loath to swell their number, I resolved I would defect

Cycling back along the Thames, reflecting on my misadventure
and relieved that I was free from self-imposed social indenture
I vowed to no more climb the greasy pole of class mobility
if the price was to rub shoulders with such ignoble nobility