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Come hither, friends, I must of tan-beds tell:
They have not Heaven's light, but heat of Hell!
For though we've Phoebus' steeds put to the bit,
They'll not their rider bear, they'll trample it,
With UV rays of such abundancy
Is matched by tanners, their profligacy.
A million souls do daily rest in those,
Not beds, nay! coffins hot enclosed.
This tanning legion, would-be Boehners all,
Are, like Ben Button, in an age withdrawal.

"More have been going since their years as tots,
Thus do more youth have Melanoma spots.
One patient mine, his skin had cancers three!"
Saith Doctor Zimmet. Would you disagree?
Some near receive their lifetime UV fix
Ere they're th' consenting age for carnal tricks.

"To combat this, the states must and do fight
With legislation," thus saith Lauren Wright.
Although Montana failed, there is a pending law,
I' a score of states, including Arkansas.
That minor access ought to be controlled
By doctor is a notion been well polled.
One out of ten such laws would like t' see;
That's better than Mahmoud his so-called victory.

I know no clearer way to out this spell,
So mark this wisdom, friends, and mark it well:
Not only safer is a minor ban,
It's also cooler than a killer tan.

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