Catherine The Great

Catherine the Great, it's whispered, was a tart She had a brain, a womb, but lacked a heart Famous for blood, betrayal, scandal, lust Was high on etiquette, but low on trust She had a wide forehead, alluring eyes Greek nose, luxuriant hair, could glamourize The court. Her second cousin who she wed Was Peter, Tsar of Russia, a blockhead This man child played with tin toys in his bed Dressed Catherine as a soldier. In his head He was a general, alienated all. Bore no resemblance to his first born, Paul "God knows where my wife gets her pregnancies, " He growled, aware of her debaucheries Of Art, she was a noted connoisseuse Not known for living like an ascesis Her dearest loves, her horsesn were her joys Tone deaf, called music ‘an internal noise She liked to copy Chinese styles of garden, A nymphomaniac, with lovers that were legion Her last lover, Zubrov, a parvenue When she was sixty, he was twentytwo Served her near the end…t'was not her horse A rumour spread that had no truthful source Some say she even locked up her hairdresser To keep her wig a secret, a represser In all but sex, at least six times a day She bucked, to keep insomnia at bay After a stroke, she died, Catherine the Great In silver dress, gold crown, laid out in state Her body laid in public for six weeks While mourners passed, to kiss her rotting cheeks During WWII, the Germans plundered Her Winter Palace, in a boudoir blundered Found sensual furniture there of awe and shock Made hardened soldiers pause amazed to gawk Hugh Hefner, Casanova, and Don Juan Look on her life, ye mighty, and think on This woman's appetites far outstripped yours She was a banquet, you, the petits fours