Salman Rushdie

There was a young man of Bombay
Who dashed off some verses one day
Hold on
I’ll read another:

This writer’s cooked up so many books
As many as D.H. Lawrence
Perhaps some of them should be overlooked:
But there’s no shame in Shame
Or abhorrence
Towards the Enchantress of Florence
And there’s general delight
In Two Years, Eight Months and 28 Nights
Midnight’s Children is a stone classic
Proclaimed so by a jury
No worse is
The Satanic Verses
Or, a personal favourite, Fury
Welcome the ever trusty
Salman Rushdie