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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