'Twas midday and the monthly meet
Did drone and mumble in the room.
All speaky were the minion-men
Uriah Heepish in the gloom.
"Beware the jargon talk, my son!
The mimsy phrases meaning naught!
Across the piece and verticals,
And shunning simple English taught!"
He took his slides and stood up tall,
Long time the borrowed weasel word
So plagiarised from Brainyland
Were gathered thickly and inferred.
And, as the corporate not-really-words
Came a-waffling from his lungs,
Plain Speaking policeforce bursted in,
Arresting all who spoke in tongues.
'Twas midday, and the monthly meet
All suddenly became bright clear -
With simple phrases, quick, concise -
Some saner world? Long time, I fear.