Ovid's Ode For The Getae Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

When I in Rome the Emperor displeased
I little thought the Empire so diseased
That at its margins lay the hairy Getae
And I an exile here with you - yet I
Now pay you tribute with my ode
Hirsute fellows with your breeks and woad.

Consider though the Roman world
Its culture, wealth and might unfurled,
The meanest tribesman must admire,
That trews for togas they must now retire
And take a bath and scrub their backs
Put down their weapons and espouse the Pax.

Once clean consider then my art
Forego the sneer and moderate the fart
I write of change and transformation
To civilisation for the former Thracian.
What then of freedom if you have the tub
Poetic conversation and a post-bath rub?

The nymphs will tender wine and treats
And luxury release its soft deceits
As steam and soaping mellow you -
Be clean behind the ears my newly shaven crew
And clear your mind of impious errors -
What's in between is now the Emperor's.