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.