THE GOD OF THE RUSSIANS
God of the Russians!—who is he?
A great—and bulky—deity:
He stands some six feet two, or three.
He is proportionally stout;
The lofty form is well filled out
Of the Controller of the Knout.
He ranks among the Dí Majores,
And in despotic power he glories;
He once was worshipped by the Tories.
He banquets on celestial fare,
His Nectar's Clicquot, potion rare!
And his Ambrosia's caviare.
As to the Russian God's costume,
It is a cocked hat and a plume,
If so to speak we may presume:
Likewise, a military stock;
Belt, sword, and coat—a tail or frock:
He stands in jack-boots like a rock.
Yet any thinker might suppose
He'd wear a different sort of clothes,
More ancient—classical—than those.
For this same God of Russia seeks
To be the God, too, of the Greeks.
Then why does he sport coat and breeks?
Old Nicholas should wear the loose
Robe that once clad the form of Zeus,
That is the garment for the Deuce.