Hommage a Arnold

The stang, in Oslo, measures stuff. 
At three-plus yards, it’s long enough.
The Gnats...? Just quiz the RAF: 
jet engine noise leaves flyboys deaf.
The Tangs are either “swigs in space” 
or kingdoms with a Chinese face.
The Tsang...? A province in Tibet 
where’s writ a Lhasan alphabet.
The gnats are tiny flying pests 
who put the bite on party guests.
'Beganst’'s abbreviated ‘‘ganst.’ 
(Don’t say thou say it can’t: thou canst.)
Your angst -- your deep, distressing dread -- 
won’t let you leave your Murphy bed.
A dead or dying spark’s a gnast. 
It's out...? They've snuff'd your flame at last.