CXV. It's Rhyme Time -

You’re tooting your horn -
        Seems you’ve forgotten the traffic sign that tickets for honking.
In debt once more , you begin to mourn -

You have ants in your pants -
        Just couldn’t wait to get a word in.
Accusations mount, but you challenged the wrong person, political correctness shield you from my rants.

You claim to comprehend a language that is mine, but not yours -
       So hear me out: You have coolie woolie.
Who knew that you’d be so insecure so as to show remorse.

You’ve got fever but it seems you suffer from some other ailment as well -
        Seems I struck a nerve.
Maybe you’ve caught  an infection because you exude a rotten smell.

I’m the original, supremely unique and real -
         Stylized since the mother’s existence in 1963 -
I’m the original whose maternal ancestry knelt in St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

Try me and you’ll dare not traverse -
          This ground I stand on, was and is mine,
For better and/or for worse.

You’re tooting your horn -
           Enough is enough; Go check out them rankings.
The red and the blue forever more, deflects you and your scorn.

Take what you want and get out of my hair -
            Alone I tread, competent, and without networking freebies.
Duplicate if you so desire; I’m off to preserve my aristocratic air.