Being Rich Is So Much a Bore

No greasy treats from chippie van; I have my starch now au, gratin with blasted, deconstructed bass, petits pois, served; in Demi tasse. No pint of best down at the pub I drink with chums now at the club; Prosecco, or a Chardonay depending on the time of day. No picking up the kids from school; done by Au pair now; as a rule; she turns up in our four by four dressed top to toe in old Dior No visits to the Home Depot I have ten craftsmen now in tow; who add things at my beck and call to my enormous stately hall. No need to visit family; They all now want to come see me, drink all my wine, then use the pool; methinks they take me for some fool! There's nothing left that I can buy; so why, you ask, that big old sigh? I have new friends, but here's the rub; I miss my mates down at the pub. Yes, being rich is such a bore!