Playing around with Hillaire Belloc's Tarantella. Was it worth it?

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Question:

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda!?
Do you remember an Inn!?
And the silk-sheets and sheep-skin
Of the beds that no-one sleeps in
Just waiting for the nightly queues!.
And the wine from gallon jars
And the carousing and drug-sniffing
(In some secluded back-room bar)
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda!?
Do you remember an Inn!?
And the carousing and drug-sniffing
Of the nouveau riche and nothings
Whose only interest is coke getting!?
And the rock music which makes an awful din!?
And the the haphazard progress
Of the clap
And hands that twitch and itch
Of the pros out nightly soliciting
Street walking
Dirty talking
Hugging shadows, lurking
In some ghastly travesty of life!.
Lows and lows
As dismal music in the gutter flows
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda!?
Do you remember an Inn!?

Never ending
Miranda,
Never ending
For the low trough whore
With customers at the door
No life
In the walls of the dingy halls
Just the beat of the feet
of the great undead and
yet unborn
Praying for a better morn!.

Now I've seen everything A!Y offered to post this in Sport - Billiards, the mind boggles!.
(I keep thinking I've posted poems and I've forgotten the final 'click' - driving myself mad!.)!.!.!.now it's offering me Sports - Card Games!!!

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Best Answer - Chosen by Asker:

Having now read both, the votes are in and I can tell the winner is!.!.!.!.!.

45 minute wait for effect, audience dies!.!.!.!.

Grannyjill!

Genuinely, I prefer yours, Granny!. It has more relevance and hits far more notes with me than Belloc's!.

" The haphazard progress of the clap" inspired!

Was Y!A getting mixed up with 'pocket billiards' by any chance!?Www@QuestionHome@Com

Yes, it was worth it!. I read them both and the imagery is superb, even though disturbing to me!.Www@QuestionHome@Com

I am unfamiliar with the original so thanks, Elaine!. Granny, wow!Www@QuestionHome@Com

You certainly have the beat: Here is his poem:

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda!?
Do you remember an Inn!?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of tar!?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark verandah)!?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn!?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteeers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the Din!?
And the Hip! Hop! Hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of a clapper to the spin
Out and in --
And the Ting, Tong, Tang, of the Guitar!.
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda!?
Do you remember an Inn!?

Never more;
Miranda,
Never more!.
Only the high peaks hoar:
And Aragon a torrent at the door!.
No sound
In the walls of the Halls where falls
The tread
Of the feet of the dead to the ground
No sound:
But the boom
Of the far Waterfall like Doom!.
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