1A worry of words
Bears not rewards
But for a poet such as he
Who can truly see
Not what is underneath
For that would be a relief
Just the world that's mild
His vision like a child's
To see only the obvious
Oh how 'tis less strenuous
He reads not between the lines
Yet we are still surprised by what he finds
We are so layered in innuendos
It cause far too many woes
So let us be free
Of the mysteries we see