The mind of a poet isn’t good for much It’s no good for sewing or sailing or such No algebra, calculus, or trigonometry Can be inferred, no physics or geometry Not the uncertainty principle nor Schrõdinger’s cat (But perhaps a quark or gluon, if the ditty calls for that) The thoughts of a poet can be quite ethereal Dreams rugged and brave and mostly surreal The bard imagines epic tales, full of sturm und drang Ballads and sonnets and poetry, all ending with a bang But when crime is afoot and you need a hero Odds of calling a poet are right around zero
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