Song: A Supporter Of The Arts

If you’re as rich as Croesus,
But tire of such excess.
And you turn from idol Jesus,
Unfulfilled and unimpressed.
When appeals reveal the sameness,
Of a media-ated view.
And you feel you’re not as famous,
As is by rights your due.
If you want a place in history,
Distinguished from the rest.
With the public taste no mystery,
To the genius you possess.

Then you need to be a patron.
A supporter of the Arts.
Enhance your reputation,
Whatever way you cast.
You need to be a patron.
Nail your colours to the mast.
And raise your epic station,
And woo a million hearts.

With a little bit of flattery,
I’ll write your minion’s chant.
My words, assault and battery,
Like herds of elephant.
With the barest hint of groveling,
And a generous slice of cant,
You’ll be the hero in my offering,
Immortalized by rant.

So you need to be a patron.
A supporter of the Arts.
Set sail with navigation,
Unknown to maps or charts.
So you need to be a patron
Put the horse before the cart.
With the hope and expectation,
Of works of savvy-smart.

You need to be a patron.
A supporter of the Arts.
With time comes integration,
Of the most obtuse of parts.
You need to be a patron.
For that’s how cultures start.
By grant and instigation;
How social myths depart.
So you need to be a patron.
Don’t let this poor boy starve
You’ll be mid-wife and stout matron,
to great art, not done by halves!