It’s pronounced “Chumley.”

Lord Cholmondley had a chair

Which was, I hear, quite old.

A guest said once, “My dear,

If I may be so bold,

I think I’ll sit right here.”

And to the chair she strolled.

Lord Cholmondley blanched in terror

But manners struck him dumb.

Could he condone the error

Of what was sure to come

As his chair became the bearer

Of the guest’s enormous bum?

Who deserved more pity?

Lord Cholmondley, the custodian

Of something so pretty,

Or the fat antipodean

So thoughtless and twitty?

I really didn’t care

As I pulled away the chair.

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