Age Rating: 13 +
(***Ahem... Yes, let the games begin.) :)
I was kickiní back one Saturday,
With nothiní much to do,
When I perchance, picked up my lance,
Said, ďLetís kick an ass or two.Ē
Somethinís stickiní in my craw
It cannot be denied,
The Warrior Poet is back in town,
And it's eatiní me up inside.
Iíve heard him boast how weíre all toast,
So smug and fancy-free,
Said he is known from coast to coast
As the King of Poetry.
I said, ďWell, my nameís Bobby
And it would be a sin
To run and hide, or stand aside,
IíM the best thereís ever been!Ē
You talk about that carrot
As if youíre on a throne
But Ďfore Iím done, Iíll put it
Where the sun ainít never shone!
Iíll mess up all your metaphors,
Cross your Iís and dot your Tís,
And when Iím done that verse of yours
Wonít even start to please!
Iíll top your rhyme and meter,
Hit your ego where it lives,
And all youíll have left is fragments
And split infinitives!
So bring it on, olí Billy,
Letís see who finally blinks,
Weíll let it ride, let them decide
Whose poetryís good or stinks!