2037. You don't tug on Superman's cape

I play bridge with an 80-yr-old who likes puns and has read some of my limericks.  He had the audacity to email me this awful attempt last night:
There was a fellow named Graham
Who politely responded “Yes ma’am,”
When asked if for fun
If he always had a pun,
Adding “Does a male lamb become a ram?”

Wanting to quash any further attempts by him, I wrote back:
There once was a fellow named Hord
So poor that he couldn't afford
A book on verse meter;
His limned lines aren't neater
Than I can write, even when bored.