"Well, why not just take one quick look?"
The foolish reader asks herself,
And plucks another ghastly book
Into her lap from off the shelf.
"What is this rhyming scheme I see?
Annoying, and a bit singsong.
First A, then B, then A, then B –
Good heavens, where did I go wrong?"
"Where are the books of fun and joy,
The books that would bring me delight?
Why do I read this sexist goy
As soon as I conclude Twilight?"
"Research," I murmur with a sigh.
"This book will help my novel work.
That's why I read this sexist guy,
Although he is a total jerk."
"He makes me want to pound my head,
Or hang myself with my own scarf;
His writing fills my soul with dread;
Let's face it: this book makes me barf."
"'Her daisy eyes had learn'd to droop' –
Dear sir, please tell me what this means.
I think that you are full of poop.
Your poem makes me want to screams."
"This poet's full of mule manure!
How does he
know how women tick?He
can't say what we're like, I'm sure –
For heaven's sake, he has a dick."
"He likes his girls dumb and demure
Religious, mild, and gently bred;
He likes us sweet and simple, pure,
Without a thought inside our head."
"Well, sir, I cannot help but think
That you and I should never meet.
Your thoughts on women frankly stink
More than a mar'thon runner's feet."
"I'm so glad that you bought the farm
So long ago and far away;
For I would surely do you harm
If you mansplained this shit today."
(I was going to do something all educational and classy and talk about Virginia Woolf and stuff, but this was more fun. Plus now you know what the book sounds like without all the trouble of reading it.)