(Coleridge’s version of Philip Larkin’s “This be the verse”)
This be the Rime
It is an ancient Poet,
And he stoppeth one of four;
The Wedding-Guest is rather pressed,
But can’t escape the bore.
“My wretched Mum drank too much rum,
Which led to my conception,
For she and Dad were very bad
At using contraception.
So they did swive, and I’m alive,
Though not of my own choosing;
I blame them still for every ill,
Especially my boozing.
He thinketh best who drinketh least,
Yet, shoudst thou crave a ‘bender’,
O Wedding-Guest! Be careful lest
A Poet thou engender!”
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