On Etiquette

Here is a poem on etiquette, about which I barely know the subject from the predicate It seems to me that etiquette's all stuffy It's for royalty's ilk, haughty and puffy Who the hell cares how you hold your fork One way for fish, another for pork Of course, eating soup's a precarious matter Make sure not one drop is carelessly splattered As for zupping up the dregs straight from the bowl That faux pas will land you in etiquette gaol Then there's the matter of how to drink tea Proper form being, up with one's pinky And effeminate gentlemen tuck in their napkins When carving a bird with all the trappings Well, I hope you've enjoyed this sacrilegious romp Dripping with sincerity, and a dearth of pomp And now that I have etiquette happily hammered I leave it to you to lambaste English grammar