It seems last night I slept through golden showers,
That raindrops fell throughout the nighttime hours
And spattered on the faces of the powers
That have since cranked the flowing spigot closed
And with loud voice denied that such were hosed,
Trumping thus the story some proposed.
I'll not argue truth or false in this;
I've more to do than ponder pundits' piss,
Although I mark that I too often miss
Such stories as arise from the deep minds
Of people on the internet. All kinds
Of stories spring from their behinds
And are for many years taken as true.
Against them, what are we supposed to do?