Parodies have long been a source of entertainment for lazy or enterprising wordsmiths. They take advantage of existing structures and subject matter and capitalise on rythms and patterns already so well known so that learning how to read them is unnecessary. Sometimes I play that game, too. There is probably a distinction to be made between a genuine pardody, which pokes fun at the original subject, a near parody, which broadens that subject, and a poem or verse that relies only on the emotion echoed from the source. I leave the reader to argue which is what.
Good old British Beer
Some like their beer cold filtered from glasses clear and cool;
Beer from their big ice boxes is known to make them drool.
But of all the world's great bev'rages, there's none that can come near,
With a slurp slurp slurp and a burp burp burp, to luke-warm British beer.
There are some tins marked with kisses, as surely you'll have seen,
And those whose drinkers think that they'll become Antipodean.
If you want to drink from the tinnies, and do so without fear,
You must slurp slurp slurp then burp burp burp, on luke-warm British beer.
Some like to drink expensive, are proud if it costs a lot.
When the bill is paid by others: do they care? No they do not!
But me? I pay my own way even though it means I'm clear
Just to slurp slurp slurp and then burp burp burp, on luke-warm British beer.
Now some are hooked by penguins, and smiling cardboard men.
And others swayed by lizards and frogs that speak to them.
But I like the company of real folk and like them to be near
When I slurp slurp slurp and then burp burp burp, our luke-warm British beer.
Some folks see drinks quite simply, they see in black and white.
They claim that it is Good for You. I'm not sure that they're right,
For the world is very fuzzy, when closing time is here
And you slurp slurp slurp and you burp burp burp, on good old British beer.
(and the original, just in case you wondered...)
The British Grenadiers
Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules
Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.
But of all the world's great heroes, there's none that can compare
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadier.
Those heroes of antiquity ne'er saw a cannon ball
Or knew the force of powder to slay their foe withal.
But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears,
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadier.
Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades
Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand grenades.
We throw them from the glacis, about the enemies' ears.
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.
And when the seige is over, we to the town repair
The townsmen cry "Hurra, boys, here comes a grenadier!
Here come the grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears!"
Then sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.
Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health to those
Who carry cape and pouches, and wear the louped clothes.
May they and their commanders live happy all their years.
with a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.