No Match For Corn

My British Literature students’ indifference toward Shakespeare’s poetry was frustrating, and when I said that my interest in his work grows every time I teach it, a student remarked, “For seniors like you, that is understandable, but his work is out of date for our generation.”

“Not so,” I rebutted. “Famed English poet Ben Jonson’s remark is indisputable. Of Shakespeare, he said, ‘He was not of an age, but for all time.’” “If you define his poetry as being among the best, how do you define bad poetry?” Someone asked. “Doggerel,” I said. “It is poorly written and is nothing more than rude verse.” “Give us an example,” a student requested.

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“All right. I’m certain y’all will agree that it is awful.” With that, I read them the following:

Susie Lee done fell in love, She planned to marry Joe. She was so happy ‘bout it all, She told her pappy so. Pappy told her, “Susie gal, You’ll have to find another. I’d just as soon yo’ ma don’t know, But Joe is yo’ half brother.” So Susie put aside her Joe And planned to marry Will. But after telling Pappy this, He said, “There’s trouble still.” You can’t marry Will, my gal, And please don’t tell yo’ mother, But Will and Joe, and several mo’ I know is yo’ half brother.” But Mama knew and said, “My child, Just do what makes you happy. Marry Will or marry Joe — You ain’t no kin to Pappy.”

To my utter astonishment, the students hooted and howled so loudly that I had to make them hush. They loved it — much more than Shakespeare’s “My Mistress’ Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun.” “Gee whiz, kids — only a bunch of Philistines could appreciate that garbage. It’s worse than a terribly corny joke.” I shouldn’t have said that. A student quipped that recently he had heard the corniest of all corny jokes, and instantly the other students began yelling, “Tell it, tell it.” Groaning, I gave in to their request. Here is what he said: Dining in a fancy restaurant, a man noticed a gorgeous woman at a nearby table, but lacked the nerve to speak to her. 
 
Suddenly she sneezed, and her glass eye flew out of its socket. As it whizzed by, the man grabbed it and handed it back to her. 

“Oh, thank you,” the woman said as she popped her eye back in place. “Let me show my gratitude by buying your meal.”

Afterward, they had an intimate conversation. She shared her deepest dreams, and he shared his. When they parted, she mentioned that she was a gourmet cook and invited him to her place the next evening. The food was divine. “You are the perfect woman,” he said. “Do you treat every guy you meet this way?” “No,” she replied. “You just happened to catch my eye.” Again, the students howled in laughter. I groaned, shook my head, and dismissed the class. That day, Shakespeare was no match for corn.