See what I mean, you impecable boar...
As one critic will glean, another wants no more
But as poet, I know it I'll never make money
For my work when I show it, is but milk and honey

The day job for me is much better than art
And many agree that your music's a fart
So sit there and hate... and love is your loss
Or with me relate, and we'll need us no boss

So flirt with the ladies each in his own way
Or just sit and beratie the things that I say
But cynics are stupid to those who enjoy
The fine eye of cupid... tis all may enjoy!
ttr