A Hundred Thousand Milliard Poems

Sonnet VII

When each of you with all his heart agrees

being twinned is better far than single-o

it's finding out that's likely to displease

we always hope to keep ourselves so-so

And thus it was a sib steeped in sottise

who beggared gave his rags the old heave-ho

e'en low bro's lead to diaporeses

when parents sanctify the babygro

The genealogist finds every blot

to cease from scratching parchment he cannot

he'd really like to root out the cuckquean

Oh brother even when you groan I grok

I quite forgive you when you run amok

true twinship blames whatever's in the gene