A poem:

In a distant land, older than the Mayan,
There lived a man—a populist lion—
Who fought for The People like old Bill Bryan
   Would also do one day.
The land wherein dwelt this man
Was governed on a monarchical plan;
Neither democratic nor republican
  Only one person held sway.

Our populist friend detested this state,
Its various flaws he’d always berate.
With monarchist flunkies he liked to debate
(Till they built the guillotine.)
One day, the Queen summoned him to the palace,
He went there at once, his mind full of malice,
But on meeting her, he lost his ballasts—
   For he’d fallen in love with the Queen!
Thereafter he couldn’t bring himself to oppose
The system by which this lady arose.
He hated the Crown, but the opposite goes
   For the head that wore it.
If the point of this tale seems a little remote:
(It’s not that the people oughtn’t to vote.)
The type of the office doesn’t always connote
  The type of person who’ll go for it.

If you’re wondering what in blazes this is about, I honestly can’t tell you. I sometimes find myself making up rhymes when I’m bored or when I can’t sleep or something, and this is one such case. In style, it reminds me a lot of this, but I wasn’t consciously trying to imitate that song at all.

It’s not very good, in my opinion, but I almost had to post it because of the ease with which it came to me, just to have a record of it. And the “Mayan” thing in the first line is kind of nonsensical and pointless; it’s just an excuse because, for some reason, I really got attached to the “Bill Bryan” line.

What's your stake in this, cowboy?