In the beginning
The world was flat,
The king was king,
And that was that.
Then peasants saw
They’d gotten screwed.
They grabbed torches and pitchforks
And got really rude.
Now the king wasn’t king
And the Earth was a sphere
And the peasants rejoiced
And drank all the beer.
A king was elected
Who told everyone
“The beer will be back
When my four years are done.”
But the beer wasn’t back
After the Earth’s fourth turn,
So the pitchforks were sharpened
And the torches did burn.
And now the beer’s back,
Which just goes to show
That society’s perfect.
And, well, now you know.
The Daily Travesty 