I got your doggerel - I got your pony.
I got all the standard rhyme schemes
packed with flotsam and baloney.
They may scan semi-schmaltzy,
but never are they phoney.
They're like feathers in my skullcap
so I call them macaroni.

I got your doggerel, ain't it ironic?
To seem Arist-o-telian, while vibing sub-Platonic?
With a little Ogden-Gnashing,
which my critics find moronic,
my medulla mostly obligates
iambic when mnemonic.

I got your doggerel; clich├ęd completely.
I dish it daily sonnetized,
and served up rather neatly.
Some enjoy it while submerged,
or curled up snug and fetally.
It ain't ryhmin' Simon
but it's beat and kinda Beatle-ly.

I got your doggerel - you just can't fight it.
You may choose not to read it,
but still I'm gonna write it.