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A Poet’s Life

So, you think it’s easy

To live the life I do,

As a writer and a poet

For the benefit of you.

Passing on my wisdom

And knowledge of the world

In a manner you can understand

With rhyming scanning words.

I bet you think that I’m right soft

Just because I write

Poems and stuff instead of trying

To get into a fight.

You probably think I’m a fag

And that I’m all limp-wristed

And Graham Norton bared his arse

And I got down and kissed it.

Well, listen, Mr. Philistine,

It’s not like that at all.

We poets are a hardy bunch,

Big and strong and tall.

The pen is mightier than the sword,

Well, that’s what they may say.

But if you say my poem’s a puff

I’ll have you any day.

I’ll punch your fucking lights out

And I’ll smack you to the floor.

A headbutt in your face will leave you

Crying out "No more!"

And as you puke your guts out

And you fill your pants with poo,

I’ll take a hearty dump with which

I’ll defecate on you.

So, don’t mess with us poets

We’re hard as fuck we are.

We’re not just brains and beauty

And we’re sure not la-di-da.

Poems don’t just write themselves

And words don’t grow on trees.

You’ve got to be a hardcase

To write verses such as these.

You’ve got to know all sorts of stuff

About the world and that.

And beat it into rigid rhymes

That scan and don’t fall flat.

So spare a thought and show respect

For every struggling poet.

We all know it’s a dirty job

But someone’s got to do it.

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