A THEORY ABOUT A THEORY
I once developed a theory
In a doctorial dissertation.
The words, though esoteric,
Needing no extra explanation
For my academic examiners
Would never publicly admit
Their ignorance of all I wrote,
Not understanding a word of it.
The secret of gaining distinction
In rarified realms of academe,
Is never stating what you think
Merely making your theory seem
As though it is, in all probability,
Superior to all earlier thought,
Your professors had ever had
As they lectured and they taught.
My theory, such a simple one,
Confounded dons high and low
For I spoke it in a foreign tongue
None admitted they didn’t know.
All I argued was that the limit
Of all human scientific enquiry,
Could never be mastered totally
The future being part of entirety.
But I declaimed my dissertation
In Virgil’s rhyming, metric Latin
Which at Oxford is assumed to be
Easy for gowns, ermine and satin.
So, the moral of this, my verse?
Well, at least it is meant to be.
For a ‘first’, make pompous judges
Accept, in ignorance, your theory.