“You are old, Great Aunt Sophie,” young Emma did tweet,
“And your hair, like your hero’s, is white.
And yet you incessantly google ‘Assange,’
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”
“If I had grandkids – I’m not blaming you –
I never would sit here alone.
I’d take them for ice cream and then to the zoo,
But this way my mind is my own.
“When I was younger, I tried to be nice
And do everything everyone told me.
But now I no longer take peoples’ advice,
Or let pipsqueaks like you try to scold me.”
“You are old,” Emma twote, “As I mentioned before,
Yet you spend half your day on the Net.
Don’t you think you’re in danger of being a bore,
Or considered a terrorist threat?”
“I fart on the fearful,” Aunt Sophie replied,
“They’ll never do anything big.
I fight for Assange and I’ll stand by his side,
Though he may be a bit of a pig.”
“You boast of your ethics and your good repute,
Aunt Sophie, in speech and in song.
And yet you turned David Leigh into a newt
Aren’t you worried that’s morally wrong?”
“Beyond good and evil,” Aunt Sophie explained,
“Is a world full of magic and play.
Even amphibians can be house-trained
Don’t you think he looks better this way?
“In my youth,” said Aunt Sophie, “I took LSD,
To keep my mind open and supple.
Today I eat brownies along with my tea.
Would you like me to sell you a couple?”
“Pray think about Alzheimers,” Emma replied,
“ ’Cause it looks like you’re that way inclined.
You giggle and grin like a blushing young bride,
Aren’t you worried you’re losing your mind?”
“I have answered three tweets, and that’s more than enough,
I don’t need to convince you or con you.
You’re wasting your time, Emma, writing such stuff.
Piss off, or I’ll sic Nigel on you.”