In my ongoing effort to lose readers, I now once again present that feature you all hate, Old Jokes Retold as Great Poems.el,3
(In the style of a Shakespearean sonnet)
Bill Clinton dies and finds that he is pinned
Within a room of carcasses that smell.
A hollow voice booms: "Billy, you have sinned,
And for all time it's here that you shall dwell."
When Bush the younger dies, his tender feet
Must tread on broken glass, which causes pain.
Again the voice, "Hey, Georgie, for your sin
It's in this room you must fore'er remain."
When Cheney corks, he, too, is in a room
But his accommodations seem quite choice.
Inside, a famous actress, in full bloom,
Lies naked in a bed! Now booms the voice:
(So quick it comes that Dick still has his pants on)
"You have sinned, you scarlet woman, Ms. Johansson."
The Maid's Raise
(In the style of "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" by Felicia Dorothea Hemans)
The maid stood on the backyard deck
Whence she began to speak:
"I want," she said, "a larger check
For work I do each week."
Her mistress asked, "Pray tell me why
You merit that from me."
The servant smiled to be so tasked:
"I'll give you reasons three.
"First," she said, "I clean the house
Far better than do thee.
This fact I know because your spouse
Told it direct to me.
Now, reason two is that I do
A better meal than thee.
Again, 'twas madame's husband who
Told it direct to me.
I blush to mention reason three
For fear I go too far.
But one more way I better thee:
In skills of the boudoir."
Into a rage the mistress flew,
(She was hissing, like a cat.)
"I suppose it was my husband who
Presumed to tell you that?"
"It wasn't, ma'am," the maid replied,
"'Twas the gardener who spake."
The mistress drew her purse and sighed --
"How much ya wanna make?"el,3
The Lawyer's Dilemma
(In the style of "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost)
Two roads diverged for Harold Wood
Of Wood & Whitson, men of law.
And long he stared and long he stood --
Weighing bad and weighing good,
About the quandary in his paw.
For widow Jones he'd drawn a will,
And from her purse of Spanish leather
She took a hundred-dollar bill
Which was his fee. But he grew still --
Two bills, he saw, were stuck together.
And so it was that Wood now saw
A dilemma of a moral kind
(So often faced by men of law)
So he just sat and set his jaw
And played it all out in his mind.
Perched he was on this abyss,
Not wanting to be thought a schmuck,
Or make a move that was amiss
You see, it all came down to this:
Should he tell his partner of his luck?