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Shame on DSK, in Verse

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Did you ever wonder what DSK was doing in his room
When the maid came in with her duster and broom?
Was it something unspeakably common and low
For that seemingly upper crust Socialist pro?
He could have been reading a library book
Or pacing the hall with a peeping-Tom look
(With widened eyes, I would surmise?)
Or calling the porter at night for a girl
Merely to give her a bit of a whirl?
He plies her with port and then maybe with snuff
(I wonder if that would be nearly enough)
He has to put dollar bills out on the table
And show he is master and sexually able
He offers a gown, she accepts with a frown.
Don't do it, you clown! You'll let all of France down.
Too late, too late, you'll rue the day,
Shame on you, honte à vous, DSK.