A Belated Introduction

Judging from certain accounts and reports,
It seems I've committed a faux pas of sorts:
I wrote what I thought was a rather nice song,
But it wasn't too long before things went wrong.
I thought that displaying a card with my name
Would suffice to assign me the credit or blame.
But I must concede
I was was shocked indeed
To learn that quite a few people simply cannot read.
For I'm not a Professor who raps about tea
Nor a Gentleman rhyming about VD.
So pull up a chair; have a seat by the fire
And learn about Sir Reginald Pikedevant, Esquire.

I don't want my career to revolve around a gear,
Though I assure you, the sentiment was quite sincere.
But I'm not a curmudgeon seeking to bludgeon
Anything that works me up into high dudgeon;
I'm a gentleman of leisure, living for pleasure
I call my home Heartsease, for mirth is my measure.
I'm a science fan
A Renaissance man,
I "drop phat beats" with finesse and élan
I'm a cylinder jockey, just a little bit cocky.
I dress à la mode in brown, tan and khaki.
My teeth may be crooked, my skin rather pallid
But I've got more rhymes than Roxburghe has ballads.

Now just let me mention, and call your attention
To my expertise in the art of invention
A thousand contraptions I'll quickly devise
(Though some are beyond my skill to realise.)
With Lord John Roxton I sought a lost world,
And I left on Malacandra my flag unfurled;
Mr. Peasley and I explored ancient halls,
But Mad'moiselle Blanc-Sec won't return my calls.
My musical oeuvre may not be prodigious,
But I've been acclaimed by sources prestigious.
Chap hop, barbershop, rackett and organ
I diversify more than J.P. Morgan.

I need no gang sign to show that I'm steampunk;
I throw up no tags, nor any of that bunk.
I don proper hats, drink appropriate beer
And I'll wear tweed, but I shan't wear sheer.
I do what I can to be a class act,
Though I fear detractors shall ever detract
I pay them no heed; they're not worth my time
(except to disparage them briefly in rhyme.)
All this braggadocio seems rather gauche;
Perhaps I should stop, ere I earn your reproach.
So I hope that you've learned all that you desire
About Sir Reginald Pikedevant, Esquire.