Sing to me, O Muse,
but not of Wand'ring Jews,
nor Ulysses, late of Troy,
nor Anchises and his boy.
but not of Wand'ring Jews,
nor Ulysses, late of Troy,
nor Anchises and his boy.
Sing of one instead
who never leaves his bed
and yet contrives to find
whole cosmoi -- in his mind.
and yet contrives to find
whole cosmoi -- in his mind.
A LA-Z-BOY Madgellan
(please overlook my spellin'),
this poetaster Poe
is maestro of bon mots.
Instead of "wine-dark seas,"
he writes of "bathtub gins."
No "rosy-fingers," please.
Just "one more day begins."
If "Arma et virum" he'd crow,
he's just misquoting Cicero.
When he's heard keening "bean-green boats,"
recall: it's Lear our man misquotes.
more to come
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