‘Kiss my feet, boy!’
‘Yes, master sir. At once, master sir. You are better
than me, sir.’
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A mighty and magnificent man - a much better man than me - does me the honour of approaching my face |
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‘Kiss my feet, boy!’ |
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‘Yes, master sir. At once, master sir. You are better than me, sir.’ |
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I humbly kiss the boots of the much better man |
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This is such an honour... |
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...even though his boots taste, and smell, musty! |
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For the likes of me - a lowly public footservant - to be allowed to taste the boots of such a superior man... |
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...is truly humbling, and a great honour! |
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Then the man provides me with the even greater honour of showing me his socktops by hitching up his right trouser-leg! |
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I can now see the sock of a much better man than me! |
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'Oh sir!...Oh master sir!...Your Sock!...Your SOCK, sir!... Oh I am not worthy, sir!' |