Splain would write a history book
On all that never happened.
He would take the closest look
At the myth and gobbledygook
Beyond the starts and ends.

He peered into the nothingness
And yelped, “It’s over full!”
Then began to pen as best
He could the blessed mess
Beyond us factual fools.

As he wrote he found his fate
And gave an empty shout,
“Beyond the famous Fable Gate
And the fields where lies await
This very book sits out!”

Splain claimed with sad conviction
That, “I sat and read it all.
This book was the greatest written
From the realm of fact and fiction,
Such a shame it’s staying fictional.”