Wednesday Wit

Brilliant English poet Alexander Pope wrote,
"Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore; full well they merit all they feel, and more: unaw by precepts, human or divine, like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join"

To Mr. Pope I would reply in the form of a limerick:

There was once a poet named Pope,
To kiss a girl he could but hope.
He sat in his Grotto,
To cry and get blotto,
It was the only way to cope.

Aww snap, that's a burn... a seventeenth century burn.