How delightful to meet Wendy Cope,
so adept at dissecting men's quirks
that you'd think she's an analyst. Nope,
she's just dated a number of jerks.
She can write in all forms with dexterity,
as she mimics each poet with ease,
mocking Larkin with deadpan hilarity,
giving Eliot's footnotes a tease.
She's called funny, with scant comprehension
of the learning her deftness conceals,
and she's clapped with sublime condescension
as she's tangoing backwards in heels.
Do you think she'll abjure the satirical
now she's happily mated? Small hope,
with her knowledge so vast and empirical!
How delightful to meet Wendy Cope.