He claims to seek a hero, who in truth
Would only bring a hero, found, sad ruth
For how's a hero, clean in mind and bod,
Supposed to treat with some narcissist clod
Who flaunts machinery against velleity
And loudly claims to be, himself, a Deity?
Were I a hero (and I am not, much)
I'd make a point of steering clear of such,
For fear my image, cast upon such glass,
Would shatter both, and make of both an ass.

William Valet Weights
Mad Visions of the Overblown
Putney, Inmoouth, Anbyte, pubs.
Dublin City, 1917