Dodgy Ozy: A Man For All Seasoning
(Ozymandias of Egypt, Percy Bysshe Shelley)
I met a traveller from an antique land
A dodgy geezer from my wild youth
Who used the pseudonym of Ozy.
I hesitated for a while: Was he
The real deal? ‘Ozy man,’ at last
I said, ‘di’us a favour, forget the past,
And for old times tell me the truth,
Or at least as much as I can stand.
The question is, should I believe
All the crap that I have read
On snapchat and my twitter feed
About the fact that I am dead
To all of those who mean the most –
The flimflams and the muffin men –
The ones who write with poisoned pen
Those killing evil hateful posts.
Of course,’ I said, ‘I trust their views
There’s no such thing as fake news.’
‘Oh is that so?’ the traveller said,
‘You think you can weave a web
That will deceive your online foes?
And how will you achieve that goal
Of protecting your immortal soul
Without the need to come to blows?’
‘Who needs Facebook, text or tweets
If I’m going to, them, defeat?
I’ll do it, old school, go one better
I’ll dump the phone and write a letter.’