I’ve got a buddy in the trade
By whom as much a mess is made
Of rhyme and meter as my own
Which is to say, of course, I mean
His rhyme and meter’s awful keen!
I have enamored of it grown
Enamored of its groan, as well
For once beneath its turgid spell
(No longer reas’ning very well)
Imagine it me much amuse
Replete with qualities profuse
Some other qualities excuse…
Like — just for instance — last time I
Was made to laugh his poems by
I spewed my cocktail on my skirt
For which no other reason than
An absolutely ide’al man
Decided after all he wouldn’t flirt!
So, reading Robbie’s works can be
High risk occupation for me
And just as if that hazard weren’t enough
Under his influence find
I’m turning to a whole behind —
That guy has got me writing silly stuff!