The TUMP in Love

Boy poets have these little beards
And most of them wear specs.
Though only technically weirds,
They mostly have these little beards,
The hairies overtop the sheareds,
They’re terrible at sex,
Boy poets with their little beards
And unsuccessful necks.

Girl poets, quite contrariwise,
Are up for it in spades.
Though found in every shape and size,
Girl poets, all contrariwise,
Have burning, yearning bedroom eyes
And wear their hair in braids.
Girl poets (this is no surprise)
Are up for it in spades.

And, dearest reader, that is why
The girls avoid the tumps,
Preferring journalists and fly-
By-night directors, that is why
A versifier such as I
Must languish in the dumps.
The game’s afoot, the stakes are high
And hearts (alas) are trumps.

John Whitworth