There once was a teacher named French
Who wrote about songs from the trench,
All while showing mondo
Knowledge of the rondeau,
A form to make teary eyes clench.

From the king to the bum on a bench,
Every Brit felt his heart in a wrench,
And even the Yankees were fond o’
That poem by John McCrae.

The villanelle’s wrapped in a stench
Of mendacity. But just ment-
Ion the popular rondeau,
And in every home and condo,
To our patriot breasts we’ll clench
That poem of John McCrae.