A Guillotine has to stay hungry
to keep her competitive edge—
she likes to stay sharp, like she’s stringing a harp
when trimming a neck or a hedge.
She breakfasts on kings and on princes
and lunches on bishops and earls
and, finally, dines on whatever she finds—
like dissidents or little girls.
The Guillotine likes to stay hungry;
she knows all the right strings to pull—
she gobbles up everyone there in the Square
but never appears to be full.
She comes to the party invited
but stays when the other guests go,
and if you request that she help with the mess
she’ll cut you off with a sharp no.
The Guillotine’s constantly hungry;
she can’t seem to master the urge.
She’s much too impatient to learn moderation;
it’s always a binge—and a purge.
She breakfasts on royals and nobles
and lunches on bishops and priests
and finally dines on whoever opines
that maybe it’s time she should cease.
One thought on “If You Think I’m Uncivil”
Who wrote the poem? I’d like to get permission to republish it, through The HyperTexts.