On poetry by journalists

O Robert, O Robert Drewe -
Your hey-diddle-diddling
Is Olympically middling
Your masterful metrical hand
Has set thumbs a-twiddling,
And fingers a-fiddling
Throughout this wide brown land.

O Robert, O Robert Drewe -
Your rhyming of 'medley'
With 'steadily' was deadly -
But did you think no more than twice
'Ere happily rhyming
(With journalist's timing)
The word 'nice' with 'Stephanie Rice'?

O Robert, O Robert Drewe -
I fear your career
Has reached its nadir;
Now what will you, what will you do?
It's straight to The Age's
Sunday letter pages
- For your verse is too bad to be true.