Also, the joke in the Interlude is in extremely bad taste, but it was hard to resist the play on the title of “The Rape of the Lock.” Apologies in advance.
Alexander Pope was a famous versifier,
Ev’rything he wrote drove his reputation higher,
Ev’rything was his that a poet could desire,
Still, he felt glum.
Alexander’s mood could be best described as grumpy,
All because his back could be best described as humpy,
Alexander thought, being short and sort of dumpy,
Love would never come.
And then one night, as he sat alone and tortured,
A bell-like voice called out from his apple orchard:
I’m lovely and young and here among your plants.
I’m callin’: Say, Alexander,
May I speak with candor?
Your poetry would be grander
With a touch of romance.
To improve your art,
The crazy human heart
Is something you should start
So don’t delay, Alex Pope,
Broaden up your scope,
Take a trip on that slippery slope
Known as love.
I’ve never bin a fan of all your preachy stuff,
And as for slamming dunces, once is quite enough.
Your version of the Iliad was fine, no doubt,
Except you filtered all the sex and violence out.
Although you told the world “Whatever is, is right,”
Whatever is, is wrong when you’re alone at night.
I’m sure that it would give you quite a pleasant shock
To find that there are better things to rape than a little old lock.
How can you refuse a luscious muse like me?
Don’t run away, Alexander,
Meet this sweet demander;
You’ll find that when you philander,
Your expression’s more free.
Don’t be so sedate,
You need to gravitate
To subjects they would hate
So come and play, Alex Pope,
Don’t be such a dope,
Have a fling and a swing on the rope
Known as love.
This night could be – I think you said it best –
What oft was thought but ne’er so well express’d,
So I hope you can cope
With a grip and a grope
And a slip on the slope
Known as love!