A

This is a poem all about A
What a stupid idea some people might say.
But people who say that are going to pay
It’s time to prove them wrong today.

So now I’ll continue with no delay
This poem once written is here to stay.
I’m writing this poem in the middle of May
When all of the people are happy and gay.

Do horses go neigh?
Do Spaniards say óle?
Is there a bird called a jay?
Do horses eat hay?

So soon, one day
I’ll shout hip-hooray
And a brilliant ray
Of light will shine where I lay.

I’ve held the critics for long at bay
Despite their desperate shouts of ‘hey!’
I’d try to make sense of a word like dray,
But that would just be pants.