Inkpotamus

Imagine you’re an ancient Greek,
And you’ve just sat down to supper,
You’re tucking in to pitta bread,
When up comes some raving nutter.

He’s shouting out: "Eureka!"
But you’re choking on your food,
He hasn’t got a stitch on him,
The man’s completely nude.

“A streaker’s running through the town,”
Neighbours shout the news.
He’s taken by some guards to see,
The King of Syracuse.

“O King, it’s Archimedes!
He’s come straight from his bath,”
And they put a cloak around him,
While trying not to laugh.

Said the King to Archimedes,
“How come you’ve been so silly?
This is not what mathematicians do,
And we all can see you’re chilly.”

“My lord, you told me of your fear,
That the goldsmith might have tricked you,
And made a crown that’s not all gold,
But has other metals mixed too.”

“Thinking of this in my bath,
While taking my ablution,
I saw the water slopping out,
Which showed me the solution.”

“It’s not the shape, it is the size,
Which matters for the crown,
In pushing out the water,
When it is going down.”

“Compare your golden crown, my lord,
To its weight in golden treasure,
The water volume they displace,
Is what we have to measure.”

“If the two things do match up,
Give the goldsmith his reward,
But if there is a difference,
Cut his head off with your sword!”