Some sir's verve, panache and aplomb
Like Bowie and his Major Tom
Take two moments rarely
To look at once where they
Are going and where they are from.
When Clerihew went for the doctor
He put on his specs and then mocked her
"You hate poetry
And you're fatter than me"
Then he pulled out a pan and just wok'd her.
Having just watched the tennis and Sampras
Had the edgar crowd filling their pampers
With a take that you Brits
It was foresworn and it's
All for strawberries cream and flat shampers.
I believe for every drop of rain
Which threatens houses on the plain
That Colonel Pickering's
Doolittle dickering
Could've left her with much to explain.
The Limerick's not what it was
And people don't like it because?
We've mislaid the knack,
But should give it a whack
For wax lyrical's right on the snoz.
On slow threads here some like to bump it
Whilst others resound with much trumpet
