Come one, come all,
With all your **** nonsense
Shed those serious souls
And serial brawls
Engage in gravelly goodness.

Touch hither soft lemony lightness
And ruminate on he said/she said
Like severed fingers in brine
Que appropriate melancholy rhyme

Like Lord Paragon of Virtue
With or withered will
Atop his freshly bejeweled spire
Delights to set the world on fire.