I. When TERRY first grabbed paper, pen and ink (Or filled his cartridge and topped up a drink) This tale he told-the young ones gathered round How LITERARY THEORY gained the ground. When (not so long ago) dons walked the earth It was suffice to prate of CHAUCER's mirth, Or SHAKESPEARE's soul, or neuraesthenic KEATS, Or bawdy BYRON, or to count the beats Of thudding hooves or hammers in a line Or find a furbelow and judge it fine. (10) To be a critic back then was to be A claret snob, or connoisseur of tea (The critics wandered to and fro Talking of de la Rochefoucauld.) The scene was artificial, arch, and arty, And THEORY soon would crash this fancy party; Like the bad fairy, omitted from the list It put those scholar vicars in a twist. They'd lived a quiet life where things fit snugly (And, truth be told, they viewed art somewhat smugly) (20) But THEORY, like the new, is always ugly.
