Behold my Praise, Lively-Lady, Behold!
This is a Fact I can always ensure
For if my Ego pretends to be cold
I deserve to be in Prison verily.
I'm sorry for such Lame Words, dearest Belle
The Artist here has a Duty to Live
For if the Master confiscates my Pen
How else should my English Rose Concerns give?
I knew you only through the Tweets you speak
That for me is enough to wear this Faith
For within your Vase sprouts a Promised Seed
Which flows Sweet Mustard to poison the Wraith.
If Questions you ask, that will add to One
And in your Friendship let your Will be done.