Holy Tango is from Francis Heaney. It is a compilation of parodies based on taking the poet's or playwright's name and making an anagram to form a new title, and thus a new topic for the parodied work. Ouch, that's a wordy explanation. Easier to show than tell, I think, so here's the poem that had me laughing right away:
(For the poetry-challenged, this is a parody of T. S. Eliot's "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," which is one of my favorite poems for its sound, and which you can refer to here for comparison.)
Let us go then, to the john,
Where the toilet seat waits to be sat upon
Like a lover's lap perched upon ceramic;
Let us go, through doors that do not always lock,
Which means you ought to knock
Lest opening one reveal a soul within
Who'll shout, "Stay out! Did you not see my shin,
Framed within the gap twixt floor and stall?"
No, I did not see that at all.
That is not what I saw, at all.
The the stall the people come and go,
Reading an obscene graffito.
We have lingered in the chamber labeled "MEN"
Till attendants proffer aftershave and mints
As we lather up our hands with soap, and rinse.