The Gentle Giant chronicler of wry has gone
But has a bigger canvas now to draw upon;
On Heaven’s foibles he trains his wit,
And on puffed angelic vanity makes the hit;
That mildly wicked streak and glinting eye
Finding all the humour in infinity.
Even paradise has its funny side: he’ll show
The jumped up Cherubs, lampooned to go.
Through all his years, despite life’s late trials
He remains the Gentleman of Droll, the King of Smiles.
And in our hearts, his art does yet extend
So in this we know, there is no Audley End.