The Blue Fiddle

There once was a bugger called Poon
Who constantly howled at the moon
He played on his middle
A lovely blue fiddle
Which never went out of tune.

Now Poon fell in love with this lass
'Twas tragic she found him quite crass
He thought up a plan
To win this girl's hand:
He'd fiddle and she would say yes!

So Poon played a tune from Mozart
To capture this princess's heart
He played his very best
To soothe this savage breast
Alas, she could not give a fart.

Now Poon's skull was like an egg shell
And egg shell skulls do not bode well
When she told him "nay"
He fell in a sway
And blood clots in his brain did swell.

So Poon lies in quiet repose
All blue from his head to his toes.
His chances are slim
His future is dim
So what can we learn from Shawn's woes?

We'll learn now to watch out for Cupid
Or we'll all end up looking stupid
Can't deal with rejection?
Can't get an erection?
That's better than losing brain fluid.

-October 2006; credit to Lim Guohong for the poem title; permission given by Shawn Poon for the use of his name. Written during a lecture on Torts.