There once was a writer from Sandusky /
Who was tall and a little bit husky. /
He wrote every day. /
He was a poet they say. /
And his clothes wore a wee bit crusty.
There once was a writer of verse
Who had a wish so perverse.
He put pen to paper
And hoped he’d become Satyr,
But what he became was even much worse.
He had hooves, horns, and some hide
Enough to frighten his would-be bride.
When he glanced in the mirror,
He couldn’t have looked any queerer
Even with the nannies by his side.