Britches Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Since Friday when the Muse seduced
my mind I have again produced
a handful of those cheap and plastic
and trashy, utterly bombastic
poetic thingies for my fans
who file them under 'also rans'.
And in between when typing fingers
did rest the funny feeling lingers
that those who did decline the chance
to write some rhymes that please and dance
cannot for love of all the riches
fit in their oversized dull britches
thus they must pull a 'sour grapes'
just like a bunch of silly apes.