You had a rhyming dictionaryIf memory's worth a centI also recall young Joppen whoTo hump, declared dissent.
It wasn't dissent,It was something he claimed to resent.I suppose he got all confusedAnd only meant to say that he refused.
I remember how angry your visage turnedWhen the young'un your order so rudely had spurnedI thought you were gearing to give him a thumpFor resenting or dissenting or whatever to hump!
This Joppen you speak so highly about,Is he the Pablo Neruda spouting lout?I remember JC melt when all was said and done,For he made the lad sob (and his nose run)
Neruda fills JC with agape love,So He turned the other cheek*, when push came to shove. Isn't it nice when it all comes together?JC, Neruda, and the young mallu brether.* Get it? Get it?
Firstly, let me clear the airFor all those who weren't there;It was not meant to stimulate,Only to see if the act he would simulate.And the cause of my supposed ireWas not the boy's lack of desire,Rather, 'twas that he claimed to be a poet,Yet mixed up his words and didn't even know it.And I sincerely hope I didn't leave a permanent scarThough to be honest I haven't heard from him since he moved on to Llorca.'Tis bad enough to be confronted with one's past crimesBut twice as bad to see them discussed in rhymesSo, pray tell, what is the cause of this history-dredging?Is it revenge for some past Quiz Club sledging?
I myself was very much thereNo need for you to clear the air!I saw our gentle Quizzing MageWell up with unexpected Rage.The point of this rhyming was not nasty nagging,The boy testifies to the wonders of ragging!And never again did he wail, or orca.Now what's all this about moving to Llorca?
Indeed I remember your presence that day,This is just covering my A.In case someone sees these commentsAnd thinks to alert my parents.Incidentally, I said 'on', not 'to',But it should have been one 'l', not two.I got my Lorca confused with my Llosa,It's all this rhyming, I suppose, sir.