In fair Stratford-Upon-Avon
Is where we set our stage,
This town where
Our Bard was born,
The man for all ages.
In The White Swan
John's son, Will,
Was rightly being toasted.
Young Will had a way with words,
And used his quill to turn girls heads
Toward his finest,
His best bed.
Halfway down Market Street,
Just before the Barber's,
Lived the Hathaway girl, Ann.
Some locals called her 'Cougar.'
Will didn't know how old she was
For she didn't look her age.
A few months on,
Her belly grown
They held a cross-bow wedding.
Ensuing vows
The reception crowd
Filed into The White Swan,
Raised their tankards
To toast the couple
With this Avon song:
'Shakespeare had his will with her,
But Ann hath-a-way.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poem so amusement it gives and love it is wonderfully told.