Franklin P. Adams - Us Potes lyrics

Swift was sweet on Stella; Poe had his Lenore; Burns' fancy turned to Nancy And a dozen more. Poe was quite a trifler; Goldsmith was a case; Byron'd flirt with any skirt From Liverpool to Thrace. Sheridan philandered; Shelley, Keats, and Moore All were there with some affair Far from lit'rachoor. Fickle is the heart of Each immortal bard. Mine alone is made of stone- Gotta work too hard.