"Sing me stories of O..." Arcanagrammatic Invocation to the Muse of Poetry -- on P O E T R Y: A Nonsense in Meter & Rhyme

(Regular readers have probably already noted that what follows is not a pure arcanagram. This is because, although the last word of each line is spelt using only the letters P O E T R Y, the last line does not end in the word ‘poetry,’ which it should were this a strict arcanagram.)

Sing me stories of O. Mingle Gorey with Poe.
Let a hollow horse (oy!) tell me tales set in Troy.
Chants of Klansmen and rope, hymns of faith and lost ‘ope.
Sell me sagas of yore, epics empt’ing each pore.

Tales of climbing High Tor, “49”ing gold ore.
Fonts of poetry ope: sev’ral stanzas, a trope.
In a shout-out re ‘toy,’ shout ‘bout Siegfried re Roy.
Serve up catfishes’ roe. Swerve from treetop to toe.

Sing me Sidon and Tyre. Fan that funeral pyre.
Rap of San Luis Rey: do a deuce; do a trey.
Who’ll object if you pry? You’ll not know till you try.
Drink deep draughts. Pour your pote. (I’ll hear nothing by rote.)

Say not ‘sed,’ only ‘et.’ (Be I bed-raed? Not yet.)
Never ‘con-,’ always ‘pro-,’ nor of nothing de trop.
Tack your tales hard to port, each poetical ort.
On my artiness prey: it’s well known you’re o’tre.

Should your rap need a rep, who will volunteer? Yep!
Sing ye! Rage till ye rot! Po’ms are better than pot.
Something dolorous? Nope: songs to sing skipping rope 
sung like Gorey and Poe. (Skip those stories of O.)