The Poetry Audit

Click to follow
The Independent Online
A chill wind of accountancy

Swept down through Academe

"Who is this Muse?" asked auditors.

"What does she charge per dream?

And how much do these poets cost

In real terms each year?"

"Dunno..." an old professor said.

"They've always just been here.

With it being Academe an' that

You take the thing for granted

Like certain types of greenhouse flowers

They won't take being transplanted."

"We see," the auditors replied.

"Well here's what we're advising.

A programme pruning out dead wood,

In other words, downsizing.

The poetry list's redundant now

A sunset situation.

We want the OUP to be

A streamlined operation.

De-cruit the muse. De-job the poets.

The firm is in a coma.

It's wake-up time and by the way...

Who's this slacker, Homer?"