LAMENTING YORICK
Alas, Poor Yorick, I wish I
could say,
That I knew him well, but
‘twas not so.
He commented at times, and I
may,
Have wondered if he was real,
or a joke.
But then it took a comment so
stray,
That to our collective ego, he
dealt a blow,
Unworthy were we of his verbal
ballet,
We plodders, labouring under a
yoke.
Sometimes, our feet are only
of clay,
A lesson we all should know,
And though this thread is led
astray,
This much to ourselves we owe.
It’s not always easy, words to
weigh,
To hold back, to go a little
slow,
Not all of us are gifted the
same,
But we strive equally at the muses’ plough.
But we strive equally at the muses’ plough.
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