Erato can be more than a bit erratic
and daily living lead to static

So sometimes when my lovely muse
seems my tender soul to abuse
and my simple mind confuse
I seek some gentler, kinder muse

And somewhere warm to sing the blues.
(and sometimes a little booze)

Whereupon my main muse, is not amused
and lets me know she feels abused
and certainly, not sufficiently exclused

and it’s choose! choose! choose!
and it’s choose! choose! choose!

As if, having been chosen
a poet could still choose