The Pops

We were asked, not by the prop’s,

Could we poetize the pops.

One can see if he but stops

To think while his brow he mops,

That in all the rhyming shops

Words are scarce that rhyme with pops.

Even with the aid of cops,

Or the literary tops,

It would give a bard the drops,

Keep him from his beer and chops,

Keep him from the festive hops

Make him do some awful flops,

Did he poetize the pops.

So we had to tell the prop’s

Even if the failure lops

Off our golden weekly crops

We can’t poetize the pops.

April 28, ‘10