There was a young lady of parts
Who had mastered the Liberal Arts
But the pride of her youth
Only hid the plain truth
That one is made smart by smarts
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This is a poem about a guy named Herb
Whom no one ever could disturb,
Until one touched his vanity
Then gone was all urbanity
And with it too went all the show
Of that rare peace he seemed to know
When those about him sat in awe,
Not so when he heard a guffaw,
Or even sensed that one suspected
A truth that he had resurrected
The while he taught humility
To others with agility
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The author of this poem
is a most disagreeable man
His friends (thought they won't admit it)
avoid him when they can.
If only they'd admit it --
But then he won't permit it!
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