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Array
(
[sid] => 26375
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Thou Art But Only a Turkey
[time] => 2003-11-03 19:47:37
[hometext] => I wrote this for an English extra credit project, and I have an innate hate for Shakespeare :)
[bodytext] => There once existed in the land of yore A poet and playwright, what a bore! Stratford on Avon was the place of his birth Somehow he managed to bring the Queen of England great mirth! Shakespeare was his name, a coward was he At the sight of danger he would always get up and flee Or if not given the chance, he would slowly bow his head Rock back and forth until he fainted dead In his youth, he was an actor for sure He trained others and sissies they were They built a theatre, The Globe it was called He contributed much, but still they wanted him imprisoned and mauled But still there were those turkeys, that felt quite a hurt When they saw their cousins bones buried in dirt The Theatre's crew had butchered their kin And distributed them amongst the crowd with a clam'rous din So the Turkey kind gathered by the mons'trous pile of dung And spoke words only understood by those of their tongue "Soon they'll kill all of our blood It smells like crap, let's just bury 'em in mud!" They were unanimous, all 'cept this one An old codger was he, and wanted some fun "Let's play with his mind, and break him through Now to think exactly what we should do...." They thought and they thought until their gobbles drooped "This Shakespeare guy, ya know, he must be duped" So they thought of this plan, and oh was it great Their lust for revenge, surely it would satiate To put this plan in action, they conceived a notion They sent a boy to the apothecary to grab an unlikely potion It took some skilll for this drug to be used But in the end, all the turkeys were quite amused They put some in the food which Shakespeare's crew was to eat Pretty soon they couldn't tell their hands from their feet But each one knew the show had to go on And the turkeys chuckled in their roosts upon the lawn The crowd, to their amazement, was quite pleased And Shakespeare was wholeheartedly appeased Comedy had its roots, and in that moment was born And Shakespeare was hard at work the next morn The turkeys were utterly dismayed For their plan had been horribly waylayed They grew angry and sharpened their beaks The time had been coming, they knew, for many weeks So they pranced into his bedroom and created quite a stir These turkeys were furious, my god they were They found Sheakespeare asleep on his bed And they pecked him to death, now he lay dead The next morn not much of ol' Willy was left His crew all felt greatly bereft But when they found out his death was by beak The turkeys never saw the sun the following week! [comments] => 1 [counter] => 148 [topic] => 7 [informant] => RealmX [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry )
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