Pushkin: have you had the pleasure?
No? You've missed a precious treasure.
Peruse his poems if you're doubting,
see for yourself 'bout what I'm shouting!

Pushkin's poems, when you’re broody,
pick you up, and when you’re moody
they snap the melancholic fetter
that binds you, and you feel much better.

Pushkin, was the people's poet,
heroic verse he would bestow it,
in raw, romantic, risqué rhyming
salacious poems he'd been priming.

Pushkin had, for feet, a fetish.
Russian girls he'd called coquettish
their feet, he'd celebrate in sonnets,
ignoring heads bedecked by bonnets!

Pushkin though was only messing.
He thought good cheer he'd give confessing.
His witty wonder words were magic,
till duellist's bullet turned them tragic.