Critique, please?

Mistaken Identity



When one sees the working classes

aimlessly filling their time,

conversing with each other

in that high pitched nasal whine

one gets the urge to squash them,

like ants swarming from their nests.

Since, just like ants, they can often be

the most annoying pests.



Their hands and faces are roughened

by work (which in my view)

it’s lucky they’re so suited for,

and which I know they love to do.

They have no real understanding

of the life that they are leading.

Like wildebeeste or zebra

they just keep on feeding....and breeding.



They are a necessary evil

which we are forced to endure.

Who else is there to pick up after us

And to polish, and clean the floor?

But really, Daphne, if you ask me,

I’d prefer that they weren’t there

And we could find a better way

to receive our rightful care.



Do you know once on safari

in Kenya, it was, I think,

a tattoed man in the very next tent

offered to buy me a drink!

These people are getting everywhere

Even St. Tropez.

One tied his boat up next to my yacht

and greeted me with ‘good-day’

Critique, please?
Clever and witty.
Reply:Excellent irony and a good poem, too.
Reply:Quite clever! I'm grinning despite some other idiots I've encountered today.
Reply:I was "a wondering" where this was going. So your castle is a tad on the smaller side? A delightful poem with a nice ending.
Reply:This is busy. I fear some will not get the tongue, but those kind never do. I like it very much. TD