There once was a hermit named Dave Reputed to misbehave. I know what you've heard; Don't believe a word, He lived all alone in his cave...
Except for a Muse named Erato, Who sometimes would visit his grotto And inspire him to write Verses banal and trite 'Cause Erato was usually blotto.
So poets, don't mess with a Muse. They're often very bad news. They'll wreak depredation On your reputation If they can't handle their booze.
Copyright; Tad Lawson Email: tagady@aol.com
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