With apologies to A E Housman:
When he was sev'n-and-fifty,
A wise man told him true:
"The people you're harassing
Will mop the floor with you.
Prevailing in that lawsuit?
Your chance not even slim."
But he was sev'n-and-fifty:
No use to talk to him.
Four days wee Perry Mason
And witnesses were heard;
Then, with a judgement summary,
The court dismissed the turd.
And after all this hassle,
The world can hardly wait
To see what sort of asshole
He'll be at fifty-eight.
With apologies to Wordsworth—not that he deserves them:
He dwells among th' Historic ways
In quaint New Baltimore:
A fraud whom there are none to praise
But plenty to abhor.
Annoying, this persistent weed
Unhidden from the eye!
Foul as his mop, when tinted 'tis
With Day-Glo orange dye.
He lives contemn'd, and few do care
Or bother to discuss;
But were he in his grave, then—O!
The difference to us!
OK, one more (pace Byron):
So, we'll go no more a-suing
For lakhs and crores untold,
Though our mouth cease not crap-spewing
And our cheek be ne'er so bold.
For ego outstrips our sense,
As our nerve governs our brain;
And our pride must falter hence,
And gall itself abstain.
Though the courts be made for suing
And our purse be cobweb-pack'd,
Still our suits we'll stop renewing
And end our cheesy act.
And now one adapted from Horace:
Indecor vitae scelerisque plenus
valde eget Mauris iaculis et arcu
et venenatis gravida sagittis