graffitti appearing along the Main River

Stagonian Verses:

I don’t know, though I have heard
That the cuckoo is the Stagonian bird.

Though clearly descended from Father of Lies,
That’s not why horns are above the Stagonian eyes.
It’s a question of legitimacy,
And perhaps too much intimacy
With what a small drink in Stagonia buys!

Old Stagonia must sponsor the writer’s art.
See how great is just fiction’s real part
With colorful mendacity
Recounting their descendency
Where mothers can’t tell the fathers apart!

The tale of Stagonia’s minister’s execution
Is a rumor precluding a proper prosecution
For the mangled man’s state
When crushed by the weight
While evading a stronger husband’s perception.

If Bob’s your uncle by a relation
Not found in a legal, recorded compilation,
In Stagonia, no fuss;
Indeed it’s a plus
To be born into such a relative complication!

No wonder Stagonian noses stick in the air,
For looking down, their men could never dare. .
If he chanced a quick glance
Down about his pink pants,
He’d find much less than he expected there!