Smithsonian Poem by Ima Ryma

John Smithson was born illegit.
English nobility did sire.
But John got wealth and lots of it,
And bad mouthed the British empire.
So when the British lost the war
To the Americans, he cheered.
Where kings and dukes and lords no more,
Where We the People had appeared.
A new land needed help from old,
A tree of knowledge to bear fruit.
In John's will a plan did unfold,
The Smithsonian Institute.

America's 'attic' did be
Thanks to illegitimacy.