The Craven: a view in verse

The Craven

Suddenly I heard a rapping,

Rapping at my office door,

And a curious sound a-slopping--

Quoth a cleaner I'd seen before:

“May I mop your office floor?”

But it wasn’t only mopping,

Mopping in the hallway floor:

What I’d heard was mapping, mapping,

Searching for the Patent d’Or:

Fervent, furtive secrets sure!

This lab, that lab, all a-mapping,

Mapping behind tight-shut doors;

Funds from other projects sapping,

Fiscal grabbing, resource hoards,

Ever angling yet for more!

Through the keyhole, deftly peering

Peering at what labs aren’t for:

Scientists, their red eyes tearing,

Working endless hours more:

To claim now what’s not yet clear.

So they needn’t be a-fearing

Fearing loss of patents’ lure,

Belaboring the staff so bleary,

Quoth the craven: “I want more!"

But lo! Is this what schools are for?


(Acknowledgment, of course, to Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven)