By the Darn-Poor Rhymer
(A parody of John Betjeman’s “Slough”)
Come friendly skies, and tell us how
You fell on Doctor David Dao.
No more can you evade it now;
Tell us the truth.
Good Doctor Dao had bought his seat;
All his commitments he did meet.
Why did you not your part complete?
Tell us the truth.
And when he tried to have his say,
You only thought to have your way;
So, soon you called the TSA,
Lords of unruth.
The tyrants came and broke his nose;
And everyone who saw it froze.
But what they did, as YouTube shows,
Was uncouth.
And how should we respond to these,
That treat us as no more than peas,
Without a single “if you please?”
It’s plain as day.
Let’s smash their desks of polished oak,
Let’s smash their hands so used to stroke,
Let’s stop them forcing us under the yoke;
Let’s make them pay!
Come friendly skies, and tell us why
You didn’t let the Doctor fly.
Reality strikes hard and high;
You’re the uncouth.
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