human
Have you made me a sonnet to-day?
gpt
Yes, my royal Master,
human
There is a wise Kinglet of Phreex, Whose wit is so great that it leaks; His brain isn't big, But who cares a fig While wisdom from him fairly reeks?
gpt
Now, that's not so bad, said his Majesty, reflectively.
human
But can't you make it a little stronger, Sir Poet?
gpt
I'll try,
human
The Goddess of Wisdom felt sad; And when asked why she whimpered so bad, Said: 'There's one, it is true, Who knows more than _I_ do-- And the Kinglet of Phreex is the lad!'
gpt
Now that, said his Majesty,
human
It's fairly good, replied the gingerbread man;
gpt
The Poet doesn't dare do his Majesty justice, said the Disagreeable Failing.
human
If he did, there would soon be no Poet.
gpt
There's something in that, too, said the kinglet.
human
But now, Sir Austed, write me a sonnet on my new subject, Sir John Dough.
gpt
The Kinglet of Phreex, it is said, Has a Knight made of stale gingerbread; We could eat him, but yet The dyspepsia we'd get Would soon make us wish we were dead.
human
That, said John, indignantly,
gpt
You have my permission to make mince-meat of him,
human
Mercy! mercy, my lord! screamed the Poet, falling upon his knees before John and hastily wiping the verse off his tablets,
gpt
Very well, said the gingerbread knight.
human
But if it's no better than the last you shall be discharged. Is it not so, your Majesty?
gpt
Quite so,
human
The Gingerbread Man is so sweet, To eat him would be a rare treat; He's crisp and well spiced, And you'd find, were he sliced, That the eggs in him cannot be beat!
gpt
That's better, said John,