Evenings in Versailles

There's too much of this damn double-bunking:
Squeeze us in and tell us to be quiet —
Put us on the top bunk, on a diet,
On probation (we've been double-dunking).
Lower bunk? We're going down, spelunking
In a voyage to the bottom. Try it,
Offer us a trip home, and we'll buy it.
I remember when I was the Sun King.

Evenings in Versailles were never boring:
Masques were constant ­— emperors could shirk it,
But salon girls always seemed to work it
Till the sun passed, and the moonlight pouring
Through the casement found us prone and snoring,
Waiting for the moon to end its circuit.