Don’t Mess With The Ballads

There was a ballad who knew things,
Things that made it quite wise,
It knew that the truth often stings,
That many things are lies,

It kept quiet while haikus moaned,
And while sonnets told tales,
Said nothing when limericks groaned,
Or went off the damn rails,

But then one day it got fed up,
Decided to strike back,
It put the haiku in a cup,
Called the sonnet a twat,

Wrote swearing stanzas of it own,
Let the limericks see,
And the limericks minds were blown,
They said: “What we can be!”

So the ballad shouted “fuck it!”
The limericks yelled out:
“All the other poems are shit!”
“Ballads have proper clout!”

So tread carefully, dear poet,
The ballad is set free,
And before you even you know it,
It’ll yell “bollocks!” With glee.