Shakespeare and me

We were having a bit of fun recently writing poetry about Shakespeare’s characters. He would probably have bitten his thumb at us but not to worry – me and Will’s – bessies.


From The Scottish Play 

I’m peering at me Satnav

Glaring at me maps

I’ve asked the owls’ opinion

But they just scratched their caps

Last time I came up this way

Brinam wood was there

Just beyond the cow shed

Near the foxes lair

Now it’s gone down yonder

It’s driving me insane

The bloody trees and bushes

Have gone to Dunsinane


The Merchant of ?Venice???

Would you prefer some liver

Perhaps a bit of tripe

Could I press you to a sausage

The lovely spicy type

I’ll pop down to the chippy

Buy a bit of fish

Some pies, a quiche, a pasty

Anything but “this”

You don’t want lumps of human

Sitting on your plate

It’s tough and bland and stringy

With a flavour that you’d hate.

Or hang on just a minute

Look at what I’ve found

Down here in my pocket

A coupla thousand pound.

So, I’ll pay off all my owings

Clear my debt to you

Then let’s go and get bladdered

Can you do that as a Jew.


and the final insult to our dear dead friend


The Gravedigger from Hamlet

Diggin’ em up, when I’d planted em in

It’s a sin I can tells ya a blitherin sin

That Hamlet come traispin’, draggin a sigh

Rootin’ and ferklin, passin’ me by

Then as he sees it, grabbin’ it up

Bloodless old bone, nobbut but a brain cup

Then as I stands ‘ere, taking my ease

Restin’ my buttocks, easin’ my knees

‘E only starts rantin’, wailin’ with woe

How as ‘e knew ‘im, that Yorick you know

How as he loved ‘im, minded ‘im well

Laughed and guffawed at the jokes that he’d tell

How as he missed ‘im, missed ‘avin ‘im round

‘ow as it’s rotten, ‘im planted in ‘t’ ground

No sooner ‘e’s finished bemoaning that fate

Than ‘e starts on that new grave ower by ‘t’gate

The one I’ve been diggin’, in that hallowed ground

The one for that lass, the one they say drowned

They say it’s not right, that her death was a sin

I know nowt about that, I just slips em in

But princes and paupers and dead girls aside

It’s a rotten old world when there’s so much to ‘ide.


sorry Mr Shakespeare sir.



Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry, Serials, Shorts and Stuff

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s