D.A. Prince: The Twenty First Century Bard

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
I wouldn't, chuck. Some summers aren't that good.
Round here they're overcast, that sort of grey
your granny goes in winter. If you could
find something else that's like me – gin, perhaps,
or that nice rosé Lidl had last week −
I'd think more of you. Are there any apps
could do this for you? Did you always speak
in poncy verse? I can't remember you
launching yourself in foreplay that might scan,
or groping for a simile or two.
You're more a CU L8ter? type of man.
Take my advice: leave off the metre. Next
time you feel randy, just send me a text.