There once was this place called the Corner
Attracting each poet and mourner
It would seem like the place
Where lyrics of grace
And beauty would make them feel warmer


But sadly the Corner would swarm
With predators seeking to warm
Their oversize egos
And feed their libidos
With chatting up girls as their form


As their poetic skills would deflate
They would rather on *** concentrate
So their primitive verse
Became far more perverse
When their  critics would start to debate