Untitled (No, I will never speak in the third person)

No, I will never speak in the third person
About my failure to take my chances - 
And sometimes I feel I've about had it, arsing
Around among the ever-rising antes
Small-time auctioneers stand nattily
Up at the gleaming bar holding on to a gin
Policemen's sons who've made it glance round at me
Penny pricing the duds I'm standing in
They cannot see my mind gyrating wittily
Compassionate me gagging my laughter's sin

But they have the last word - the scarlet Jag
House in Foxrock and wife and kids
My only home is in a poetry mag
And hell! I still have got those laughing fits.