Immaculate Threnodies by Augustan Bachelors
On Boscombe Down, where Keats was born
Between the milkwort and the thorn,
where in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
I trod on someone's former grave
The poet of the Grecian Urn
As later poets ought to learn
Embraced all things which most men spurn
And seldom liked to rant or rave
His shade was known for grace and guile
Upon his lips a hint of smile
When, as a doctor, for a while
He'd scrutinise the fairer sex
His ectoplasmic periscope
Gave some maids some cause for hope
And Keats confessed he might elope
For things of beauty, like paychecks
Across the Down, towards the cliff
He went, in hopes he'd get a whiff
Of mermaids' flesh; yet there, quite stiff
He saw a disembodied hand
Quite whose it was, or whence it came
Provoked a Twenty Questions game
Yet Keats, in searching for a name
Did plagiarize a punk rock band
"A Paler Shade of White", its 'plume
As, turning cartwheels 'cross the room
And weaving on some antient loom,
He span a wholly vapid yarn
For Keats was never far from harm
In sea or swamp, in fen or farm
When short a stock, or long an arm
'Twould incendiarise a neighbour's barn
| Contributors: | loaf, p, Lauren Baum, Chevalier, Apsley, F, Ventnor, Roland, Kansas Sam, Arnold the Sly Ape, Chriss. |
| Poem finished: | 8th December 2005 by Chevalier. |