Not my usual style, but I was once a Marine and some of it rubbed off

Semper Fi Cupid

I gotta tell you how old English maybe saved me,
Being in the marines, you get a lot for free,

A lotta names I was called, but none of them too nice,
Some of them used many more times than twice,

The boot camp drill instructor, Me, I hoped he would miss,
But a guinea pig for everything, I was high up on his list,

I , was challenged by him some poetry to recite,
So I asked ,thought we came here to learn to fight?

He said he was reading old English, heard I was, a poetic fiend,
So gimme a rendition of poetry that fits a fighting marine,

You can shut your mouth and look as dumb as sin,
But no way private, I wanna hear it! Begin!

I said , well it ain’t exactly Shakespeare, Sarge,
It’s sorta what you might call poetry at large,

He said, Large or small, spit it out!
I said , Yes Sir, as I desperately looked about,

Memory finally saved me before the sergeant had a fit,
And I remembered marrying Mother goose to this old English bit,

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth I know not where,

I heard a yell from up the hill,
Could this be Jack or maybe Jill,

Jill she lay in sublime repose,
Without the benefit of any clothes,

Old Jack he almost had her mastered,
When my wayward arrow struck the Bastard!

Any safe storm to save my butt,
I hoped so maybe , it shut him up.