Allow me to share with both of you a small poetic oeuvre (is that the plural of oeuf? Who knows...) of mine own, which is - alas - in danger of becoming outdated in the near future.
When a man receives some Dubya gaffes in letters through the post,
He dismisses them as junk mail with a single glance at most;
But when posted on a website he'll peruse them without fail -
For the e-mail of the speeches is more deadly than the mail.
I apologise to you all. Don't know what came over me. I'll just take my service revolver and step outside now, shall I?