Shall I compare thee to a lump of clay
Thou art more stupid and more ignorant
Tough skin do shape your hollow cheeks of grey
And mummer's grease no youth shall grant
Sometimes too hard the marly earth is found
And often is its pores clogged up with soil
And every ball slumps to a shapeless mound
By fire or raw upon the wheel to spoil
But thy lumpen corporation always full of rot
More useless than a simple clod of earth
From mum's best china to a chamber pot
Will eternally outlast you and your lack of worth
So I long for you to die and turn to clay,
So sooner you'll be useful in another way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this. Thanks for writing it, there was a fun trivia answer that suggested lump of clay as a continuation and this made my day.