There once was a man who never left the stage,
Who always performed, always engaged,
And never stood back to let others perform
For he felt that he was simply great.
This went on for hours, till he ran out of lines,
And re-used some, though they lost their shine,
He had reached the calm that lay after the storm
And his act became second-rate.
As time went on his crowd got tired,
They all left, the stage man was fired,
And he sat there asking in shriveled form
“What have I done to deserve this fate?”