The stage is set for imminent disaster.
Here is the little tramp, standing
On a stack of books in order
To reach the microphone, the
Poet he’ s impersonating somehow
Trussed and mumbling in a
Tweed bundle at his feet.
He opens his mouth: Tra-la!
Out comes doves, incandescent bulbs,
Plastic roses. Well, that’ s that,
Squirms the young professor who’ s
No more visiting poets!
His department head groans
For the trap door. As it
The tramp keeps on as if
Nothing has occurred,
A free arm mimicking