If men read epic poetry in bed, And never change their Eeyore underwear, On bunny kidney they’ve unwisely fed: That’s whorehouse food, and most unwholesome fare.   If lotus eaters kick spondaic asses, And love trochaic bunny ears the best, It starts a war between the lower classes And puts poetic hooey to the test.   If op art poet laureates go bald, And end up haunting Fred on Scooby-Doo, It’s they who to a nunnery are hauled: They have some vinyl bunny ears for you.   On Yahoo! you are only who you are, And no one there is anyone… so far.