Posted on 01/13/2017 4:58:29 AM PST by Prov1322
There once was a witch from Nantucket.
Who kept all her emails in a bucket.
Her friends would all say,
“That’s illegal! no way!”
to which she’d replay, “Aw F*** it!”
Here’s a little A.E. Housman for these moaning poetasters:
“Terence, this is stupid stuff!
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can’t be much amiss, ‘tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly-ache!
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head...
We poor lads, ‘tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow!
Pretty friendship ‘tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad!
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad!”
***********************
“Let the snowflakes scream, wail, gnash their teeth, beat their chests, and shed gallons of their tears; for it is but music from on high and the nectar of the gods which pleases the human beings to no end.”
PING to the versification fun thread...
I see what you did here!
Averse to Trump, America's poets fight back with words
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