A Poet's Lullaby

Counts Trochee and Dithyrambo
Once had hoped to rule the earth,
But well read plebs were in the know
That snobs are not the Lords of mirth.  
 
Mirth Lords are meek and scatterbrained  
And do their best to get along
With simple tunes, sweetly refrained,
From the downy swan in metric song.
 
Those nobles had no inner ear
And used the calculus instead,
Which no Mirth Lord wanted to hear
When trying to get a chick in bed...
Where metronomics count the sheep
In verse that puts a bard to sleep!