You Once Rhymed Parmesan With What?
The “you” of the title refers neither to me nor anyone in this audience, but to a certain infamously witty and endearing curmudgeon who lives in Boston, much to this coast’s detriment.
Today I came across a poem this friend had written for a course in 16th Century English literature, which he considers pretty awful or at least undistinctive, except for two ridiculous rhymes he’d thrown in, which utterly clash with the tone of the rest of it:
April 13, 2003
When for a summer month you venture south
And take to the seven slow hills of Rome,
You take a breath of sweet air in your mouth
And think not of the muddy lanes of home;
The scent of cypress in the evening blends
With garlic, onions, oil, and Parmesan;
You reflect that taste is the noblest sense,
Its home on the Mediterranean;
And beautiful people, well-rested all,
Lead lives of leisure in their lovely land.
Life in Italy sings a siren’s call
And beckons with a soft seductive hand,
But do not forget that nothing functions
Because Italians have no compunctions.
Anyone else have interesting slants to share? [Especially those pulled off in a good context?] From a quick scan I see Virge has paired photo with Quasimodo– so what other slants might he have up his archival sleeves?
{And of course, what survey of “so bad it’s good” wordplay would be complete without a nod to Paul.za’s frontpage pun-ishments….}

