A clerihew is a short funny poem about a famous person. The form was invented by poet Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) when, at age 16, he was bored in a science class. Rules are simple. Clerihews are four lines long. The first line names a person, and the second line rhymes with the first. Also the third and fourth lines rhyme with each other (i.e., an AABB rhyme pattern). A good clerihew captures something of a person’s character or reputation. The main aim is to sum up an entire life through one incident or detail, making fun of the person. Clerihews are not intended to be rude, but rather are amusing and/or silly. Lines can be any length, and one needn’t use rhythm. W.H. Auden is among the many poets who have written clerihews. Here are some of the clerihews I’ve written about Cincinnati celebrities, current and past.
Love,
Dave
The Bengals’ head coach is Zack Taylor
Has the mindset of Vlad the Impaler
Zack draws up the plays for Joe Burrow
Blazing rockets shot straight down the furrow
Chef Jean-Robert de Cavel
Attracted a hip clientele
The crown prince of French cuisine
He knew what to do with a bean
A living legend, hometown hero Pete Rose
Had gambling debts up to his nose
Banned for life from the Hall of Fame
Pete fortunately is impervious to shame
We all of us remember Nick Clooney
A most charming man, slightly goony
Was he likeable?, believe it, Mister
Though less famous than his son or his sister
Channel 5’s a.m. star was Paul Dixon
Way back in those days of R. Nixon
Paul teased the front row about their knees
Gave Bonnie Lou and Colleen a squeeze
Our Reds star these days is Joey Votto
Hitting better is what Joey ought to
’Twas a worse than lackluster season
The wise guys say old age is the reason
UC’s prez is Dr. Neville Pinto
Engineering’s the field he’s been into
Neville’s minions — fifty thousand young students
All but ten are chronic impudents
The Reds were once owned by Marge Schott
Fans prayed that she’d sweeten the pot
Stupid thoughts about Hitler and Blacks
But her players soft-pedaled the attacks
The Bearcats’ best coach was Luke Fickell
But Luke left the team in a pickle
Wisconsin wooed our Luke away
Eight million, hard to say neigh
The sheriff for years was Simon Leis
A tough nut who ruled by caprice
No one ever called Simon humane
Since his treatments were spankings and pain
The worst native son is Charlie Manson
Who was famed at Walnut Hills for his dancin’
Manson ordered his groupies to kill
And they all seemed to think it a thrill
My first love was Miss Doris Day
Though Rock Hudson got in my way
Doris was guileless and pure
Not to mention her golden coiffure
Cincy’s cowpoke, a Rogers named Roy
Such a hero to me as a boy
Roy would have a shootout with some goon
Then would croon by the light of the moon
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