Oh Miley, dear Miley, what’s up with your hair
It’s platinum blonde and way sticking up there
Ain’t nobody told you it will make some folks stare
And gabble and gossip and old women swear.
And the clothes you aren’t wearing, well how about that
Cover yourself girl at least wear a hat
the women are jealous and all the men chat
on google and facebook concerning the tat.
Your lascivious dance moves caused quite a stir
most which us plain folks would rather demur
that wiggle and waggle is what we prefer
in puppies and kittens with freshly wet fur.
But twerk it and work it and give it your best
we secretly love you and want you to crest
don’t trip up like Britney and Lindsay, the rest
who found success early, then fell at first test.
This poem accompanies another with a lesson to tell
and a couple of pictures the idea to sell
that sic transit gloria, for ill or for well
so twerk it and work it, you do ring our bell.
On The Vanity of Earthly Greatness
The tusks which clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.
The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is Ferric Oxide, known as rust.
The grizzly bear, whose potent hug,
Was feared by all, is now a rug.
Great Caesar’s bust is on the shelf,
And I don’t feel so well myself.