Though poetry's a thoughtful craft
The pay it brings comes from the aft
Of horse-like fiends called editors--
Most spared the wrath of creditors
Because they sought their pay by book
(Like diners who pretend they cook).
They scorn the man who lives by trade,
Preferring loot obtained by raid
Of funds, endowments: lucre's fount.
The rider? No. They're money's mount.
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