The Spoonbill Generator

Shakespeare's apparent homily diverts the Thames ferry-men

Lay thee at my rump, thou contumelious sot [TG]

Thou periphrast, thou ignominious blot! [R+L]

Thy conduct ill befits the mangiest cur [TG]

Thy quiant aroma rivals foetid myrrh [Roland]

That you have wronged me, none here durst gainsay [TG]

If I deserved it, God will let me pray [P]

For ghostly guidance; till that blessed hour [Roland]

I seethe, unpaid by sempiternal power [Roland]

Thou whoreson knave, thou wizened jackanapes [TG]

Thou pederast, thou sampler of sour grapes! [Roland]

The world shall know thy treachery betimes [TG]

And all shall heap derision on thy crimes [Roland]

Thy course lies ever down into the Pit [TG]

Between those braziers, arguably lit [Roland]

Where Satan too will shrink from thy vile stench [TG]

and every demon in disgust shall blench [Roland]

May all thy kinfolk perish with the pox [TG]

Let apoplexy stiffen both your socks! [Roland]

May leeches drain the blood from that vile face [TG]

Whose mien betokens desolate disgrace [Roland]

May that foul hovel you call home catch fire [TG]

And all who dwell there perish on the pyre [Roland]

.......... But if, by chance, the debt is recent paid [TG]

Then buy yourself a glass of Lucozade. [Roland]

Contributors: TG, R+L, Roland, P.
Poem finished: 3rd October 1998.