Ideally, the parts in capital letters would be shouted out by a chorus of school children.
More Happy Birthday
Persnickety Doge of dotage and piety,
Enrico Dandolo, sacking sobriety,
blitzes Byzantium under the hope he'll
topple the populous Constantinople – AT NINETY!
Poetical Merwin, that octogenarian
Buddhist, irenical egalitarian,
chases Erato and always out wits her
by snagging his second, his second, Pulitzer – AT EIGHTY-TWO!
Clint Eastwood increases in cinema menace, since
Hollywood’s heroes grow darker in senescence;
Wraith of the Year and a notable spectre
as a man with no name now named Best Director – AT SEVENTY-FOUR!
Then there's John Whitworth. Well, what has he done?
No Laureateship, no Tanning prize won;
but, speaking equinely, I’d still place a bet
for he's just SIXTY-FOUR, so there's hope for him yet.
Last edited by Orwn Acra; 12-11-2009 at 09:50 PM.
|