(To be read in a slow, Southern American accent)
why you always rhyming me
why am I not biting
on the clever words you writing
You try to explain love
like a god from high above
you say you got the slant
on my life there in your rant
but I don't need your words
for I'm not following the herds
'cos I don't read no heavy books
full of words with fancy looks
you ain't writing it for me
in all that clever poetry
I am sure I'm not your man
so "sonnet" down the "can"
with your iambic pentameter
man it's you who is the amateur
I don't hear my own way
of speaking in what you have to say
you know nothing of my being
you ain't seeing what I'm seeing
no-one here done talk like you
the way you poets seem to do
you there from another time
with your books of fancy rhyme
Shakespeare that was years ago
that dudes dead and you don't know
and you want us to sit and tune-in
man we ain't gonna be list-en-ing
Mr poetry we're not "tight"
so what for me you gonna write!
