Horace is a stand-up guy
A humour two-way-switch
Wizard of the turn of phrase
A slightly careworn missing stitch
He has a way with subterfuge
Performing 1stclass misdirection
Pulling rabbits out of boaters
Feigning kindly right intention
He’ll tell you what you want to hear
Seize momentary bottom lines
Reassure the tearful fearful
That his sunlight brightly shines
In ballrooms of the great and good
Where the well-off sang along
To count the cost of what they lost
Not my fault screamed Horace Bronson
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