He poked his ear
And scratched his head
And pondered on the state,
Of everything
And everywhere,
And ditty’s dreadful fate.
His editor was ruthless,
Razor tongued and vile.
A foul and ghastly ogre,
Who bathed in bitter bile.
Dear ditty died of innocence,
Verse slashed by analytics.
He couldn’t cope within a world
Of harsh and horrid critics.
And now each day is darker,
One ditty’s light extinguished.
He’ll twinkle on in memory,
Posthumerously distinguished.
© Copyright Philip Barton, June 28th, 2025 All rights reserved
