Some time ago, an English town distinguished by a knot,
Was home to one small ****** who'd relinquished all he'd got,
He wandered through the autumn mist and conjured up a plot,
Thinking "those who cannot co-exist with me can be forgot"
As winter came he sat and tried to carry out this plan,
Reluctant to reside beside the truculence of man,
He'd rid himself of company, he travelled all alone,
This blemished soul, unravelled, stripped of colour, shade and tone
Some time had passed, the vagabond felt lost, astray and tired,
Surrounded by his odour and the ailments he'd acquired,
He thought, he dreamed, he pondered still, he yearned to be inspired,
Yet the only thing he lacked was just the thing that he required
Behold, the seasons changed again, the ice began to thaw,
Precipitation halted as the sun came to explore,
But still, this soul lay motionless, inert and not in-awe,
'Til he came across a boat adjacent to a wooden ore,
"At last!" He thought "My great escape! I'll row with all my worth"
"And soon enough I'll find the edge and capsize off this earth"
"For human kind is too unkind and blind to peace and love"
"I've had enough of talking, thus this push has come to shove"
But just before this sour soul could sail away from land,
He noticed someone signalling a message with his hand,
For up to now he'd found it too surreal to understand,
That a language, so outstanding, could be physically manned,
{I've brought this boat to you, my friend! to demonstrate a choice}
How strange! This message came across without the sound of voice,
The ****** stood perplexed and yet relaxed in silent song,
Confessed how solitude had stole his spirit for so long,
The messenger, content, turned back and trekked towards the town,
The Auburn Prince was sewn upon the backside of his gown,
The ****** chose to follow him and practiced making signs,
A thumbs up and applause goes to the Prince who changed his mind,
One does not need to hear the Prince to heed the grand ideal,
For language can be silent, solely something that you feel.