Mon Dieu she shrieked, I watched him standing there,
Beneath the Gogh, the suit was Weatherill.
He sipped cognac (Eden de Gautier)
And on his arm some filly from Brazil.
You heard, of course, poor dear, she knew the drill.
What must she think: her dress, she wore Chanel,
The shoes, Vuitton, I thought were overkill
But then she smiled; I swear...
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