There once was a place for the folks
who would write little poems and jokes.
And the place had its rules
both for smartbums and fools
and for sheilas as well as for blokes.
Came the time when they cracked down on crime
handing out penal edicts of time,
with each swipe of the tail
they would put you in jail
for the use of strange words or bad rhyme.
Well, the inmates imagined the noose
so they asked for some guidance from Zeus,
but the word from above
carried down by a dove
was the shape of a hypotenuse.
So the people were scared and they cried
some went home to protect their own hide.
But the ones who prevailed
were repeatedly jailed
there was talk of an upcoming tide.
Then one morning they all heard the news,
said the powers: 'No need for the blues,
there will be strict control
which will close the loophole,
for the gander but not for the goose.'
They explained it when shysters peeked in
that equality would be a sin.
That each person was made
with the same carving blade
but that some had a petulant chin.
Well, that did it, at least it was clear
there was never a reason to fear.
Trust your monarch, my friend
and you WILL in the end
be rewarded and pampered, you hear?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem