Sunday, September 30, 2012
In Jest I Say
A nave of spades, a jack of clubs,
A prince of hearts, a diamond ruff
That overcomes all other studs;
His hair is shimmering black, rough
Are his hands in an attack! Quick
As lightning, and flashy too; such
Is his nature. But like a wick
That's burned down to long, his cold touch
May come on stronger than you'd think
Possible, for such a fine and
Jovial spirit, doth oft wink
To see if you can see his hand!
Slight of hand, trickster by his trade...
And quite clever; his tongue his blade.
On stage we know him as the Puck...
Yet this page is more; he's in luck
To be our dear friend, a fine man.
He always has a perfect tan.
While his bombastic humor may
Affront some fool whom he puts down,
We see him as wise, and today
We come, near and far, to the town
In order to wish him well! Jokes
Are made, and many do tell him
How very much they miss him; blokes
Do shake his hand, and on a whim
He doth look through the crowd gathered;
His smile says it all; we mattered.
So sing your songs, and play your tricks,
Pray to God, withstand them fool hicks
That would treat you like piles of dung...
Give them a run, and their pockets
Do treat with, until they are wrung
From all value; and when all bets
Are won in your favor thank God!
His name ever praise, ever laud.
Don't be a stranger you knave, don't
Forget your friends old Jack, and won't
You be sorry you sad old heart
If you don't act your shining part.
You are a light for others to
See, a light for God; now be true
To your calling, your part. Happy
Birthday to you; now go and free
Those that do need a smile, do hope
To be released from the shackles
That bind them, those foul modern ropes
That are wrapped around, manacles,
Their sad sorry minds. Melancholy
Grips a nation; go forth, set free
All these fools from their misery.
In Jest I say, (c) Luke Bennette, September 2012