WHILE REREADING LATTIMORE’S ILIAD MANY YEARS LATER (VARIATIONS)

Wheeze, oh Muse, and clatter me the ditty
on an awry hero tantrum. Cough.
Song dame, won’t you clever me a stanza
epic highly ? hence me that way,
long lyre lady, so I shall could warble
hot good copy and, curved poet, distress
alas, whole kinds of bad murder
on Acheans which, on result of
that angerly feel which was toward pointed
Agamemnon at by vast Achilles,
would be sending at their doom.