Shakespeare caught Mischief his beloved,
Pet howler monkey in a state of despair.
Shaking his head from side to side,
And covering his eyes with his paws.
And sighing so, so deeply.
Gazooks! Shouted The Great Bard and added,
I see you're on PoemHunter and viewing,
Shaun's latest poem.
Methinks my faithful furry friend,
By your aghast reaction,
It's yet another hotchpotch of dregs, drivel and dross,
Cobbled together in the poorest, cheapest order.
Tell me, my playful primate,
Does it start badly, then quickly fades,
Like all his plooky, poorly penned poems.
Why of course it does.
But think of this my dear, dear Mischief,
And from it take much needed relief and solace...
It could be worse,
A lot, lot worse.
For he could be Welsh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem