Nimrod's Children (almost a palindrome, except more convenient and rearranged)

Once stuck in a song, this hunter's once young, sharp tongue,
Polygluttony, of the touring variety,
Invoked a curse where he was sent babbling
From of the word of worlds, also note well:
From of the worlds of words, and
Douglas Adams made a joke about it.

A royaume ululation, but without relief,
The ceasing and the Inscendental, foreverish.
May as well go live in a cave or pretend
Life as Sophocles plays, and fuck it.
Your mom, Your fucking mom.
This joke has fallen upon my old ears.