Sees a notice – poets for hire
Interviews in the library
He thinks that’s just gig for me
He hopes they’ll like the way he sings
He buys a plectrum and some strings
Feeling chilled and pleased as punch
He goes to Wetherspoons for lunch
An hour later he’s back inside
He didn’t have an easy ride
Churning round inside his head
Are the words that they had said
It isn’t that we don’t like you
There’s just no call for what you do
By that we mean your style of rhyme
It isn’t hip-hop rap or grime
You need to cover urban stuff
You’re not edgy or rough enough
Buy a leather jacket mate
Pretend you’re from a tough estate
The juice of Dionysius
Soon befuddles Orpheus
He sits and broods depressively
And breathes the smell of poverty
He had outplayed the Sirens' song
But now his music is thought wrong
He must tell Eurydice
That no-one likes his poetry
He decides to pawn his lyre
Or better, burn it on the fire
No-one wants to hear his tunes
The lonely man in Wetherspoons
He hopes they’ll like the way he sings
He buys a plectrum and some strings
Feeling chilled and pleased as punch
He goes to Wetherspoons for lunch
An hour later he’s back inside
He didn’t have an easy ride
Churning round inside his head
Are the words that they had said
It isn’t that we don’t like you
There’s just no call for what you do
By that we mean your style of rhyme
It isn’t hip-hop rap or grime
You need to cover urban stuff
You’re not edgy or rough enough
Buy a leather jacket mate
Pretend you’re from a tough estate
The juice of Dionysius
Soon befuddles Orpheus
He sits and broods depressively
And breathes the smell of poverty
He had outplayed the Sirens' song
But now his music is thought wrong
He must tell Eurydice
That no-one likes his poetry
He decides to pawn his lyre
Or better, burn it on the fire
No-one wants to hear his tunes
The lonely man in Wetherspoons
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