Against the Denouncers of Robert Service

God damn those professors of literature,

May their bones rot

And their souls burn hot,

For there certainly isn't an earthly cure

For their arrogance and mendacity.

They're quick to condemn far better men,

For the crime of excessive lucidity;

As there's nothing for them

In words that are clear

They pretend that clarity's stupidity.

They praise only works that befuddle the mind,

As the touchstone of intellectuality.

The real fault, I fear,

When the meaning seems clear

Is that won't help them earn their salary.

For Service they save their very best phlegm;

They fulminate fast and furiously,

With a kind of imperious majesty,

Designed to disguise their jealousy -

And fear of eventual redundancy.

Service wrote humorous verse of astonishing technical skill, and was vilified for it by professors and literary critics of the parasitic type. They criticised him on the most spurious grounds.
On related topics:
Reclaim Poetry for the People
Pretentious Guff