A Man, A Plan, A Can-... (ard, A Savoyard...?)

As oft I've said before,
my goal's been to explore,
through metric feet 'n' rhymes galore --

through metrics 'n' rhymes galore -- 

the soul of ancient lore, 

then dole (though less be more)

out yarns from yore -- at least four score -- 

that ne'er have been doled before.

As elsewhere I have said,

my plan's to forge ahead,

to sift Lit's gamut from A to Zed --

Lit's gamut from A to Zed -- 

to thread through letterhead

with pen (or pencil lead)

a scribble of verse (or prose instead)

which never before's been read.

Once more my spirit's stirr'd --

my wit my Muse has spurr'd -- 

to fashion forms of cartoon 'n' word --

to fashion cartoon 'n' word --

till verity's been blurr'd 

(though such may seem absurd),

then, undeterr'd, to hone a herd

of notions till now unheard. 

In closing, I concede

that, though I feel a need

the athenaeums of wit to feed --

'thenaeums of wit to feed --

my only fruitful deed

is barely to succeed 

in mass producing a freakish breed 

of Nonsense but few will read.