Dram Knave Poem by Ornithopetra priamus

Once upon a time I hadst a cousin, I knew him a play we both wast in.

About his features I might not but speak the truth,
He wast not tall, but with a fair skin.


And wast vain, He did look in the in the mirr'r and commend his own eyes ans his own cheeks.

This fartuous knave bethought every girls art in love with him,
Dram didst he knoweth, the girls only piti'd tis retched being.

For he wast free from the chains of brain, and he kneweth nothing of logic.

Too of a hopeless romantic he wast; some folks would say. Nevertheless he did careth not. For he was stubborn as a bull was.

He did fetch me offerings, he did kneweth mine own manners. He wast after mine own heart.

Alas! He was no more brain than stone, and tooketh mine own friendship f'r love. And sweet smiles f'r affection.

Last time I did see him I hath said nay, and we did part in a contrary.

Farewell thee dram knave, may thee findeth thy brain and beest ev'r wise as thee shouldst has't ev'r been, I did say to him.