So now the bard spurns iambs and trochees

to aggravate the layman and the shmo

he writes reviews that read like journalese

which freshens up the tribal rumbelow

Just one was right and not those SOBs

the mob demands that verse be comme il faut

both are right not that vague congeries

most people like to read the words they know

Th' inspiréd poet isn't polyglot

in his brain one tongue is all he's got

e'en stol'n from th' celts his muse remains his queen

O bard your solo readings make me mock

I nominate you as a gapingstock

the metromaniacs outdo Racine