The Poet's Prologue

A POET there was of a great city
He loved verse and little ditties
He lived alone and wrote his rhymes
Of present day and of past times.
Opinionated was he, to be sure
Saying what he thought and how he saw
The great issues of the day
Some disagreed and they did say.
He was a very pensive fellow
His skin was smooth, his voice was mellow.
Blond was his hair, his eyes were brown
Sometimes of mood he did feel down
(as writers and artists often are
As oft it does go with their craft).
He was wedded not and had no partner
But he did long to go further
So he joined us on a whim
To go forth to Canterbury From the Tabard Inn.

MDC