Two Poemes from the Archivium of Homonymus Bosch
There was a young man from St. Paul,
Who fell in a spring in the fall.
T’would have been a sad thing
Had he died in the spring;
But he didn’t: he died in the fall.
A Tutor who tooted the flute
Tried to teach two young tooters to toot;
“Said the two to the Tutor,
“Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tooters to toot?”
Amazing Grice
by Sai and Alex Fink
with apologies to Paul Grice
and John Newton
Amazing Grice, O maxims sound
that saved my sophistry!
I once just lied, but now I’ve found:
best lie pragmatically.
’Twas Grice that taught me not to fear;
of facts I can take leave.
All baseless; not a claim sincere—
yet people still believe!
Through every tangent, maze, and snare,
I’ve made my speeches roam—
’twas Grice that left them unaware
and stranded far from home.
I make each promise slippery,
each word with sense obscure;
the choice of meaning mine will be
as long as I endure.
When I’ve gone on 10,000 years,
and padded tales I’ve spun,
they’ll have to yield; I’ll flood their ears
once I’ve my rant begun.
Amazing Grice, O maxims sound
that saved my sophistry!
I once just lied, but now I’ve found:
best lie pragmatically.
