Samantha was exceedingly rich
and Sophie was erudite.
Together they thought the whole world wrong
while they, of course, were right.

When someone happened to pass them by
wearing clothes that weren't designer,
they'd hold their noses in the air,
sneer at her and malign her.

They flaunted their status and privilege,
putting down all those not in the know.
They curled their lips at the hoi polloi
and pooh-poohed all thoughts not their own.

When someone they'd badmouthed had the nerve
to call them highfalutin,
they'd double their pomposity -
the barbs they'd keep a shootin'.

What did they care if the riff-raff thought
they acted high and mighty?
In their own minds they were goddesses,
like Venus and Aphrodite.

Each stayed aloft on her high horse,
wrapped up in self importance.
Their haughty hearts didn't care a whit
for the victims of their torments.

Superior and snooty,
they shunned, snubbed, scoffed and scorned.
The only ideas they approved of
their own small minds had formed.

That's pretty much how they lived out their lives -
they mocked and they mortified.
Is it any surprise, then, no one mourned
on the day they finally died?