Shakespeare, you must have been driven to despair
If you did not think of the right word, you would tear out you hair.
Your spirit drove you to write of everything you saw
When that was done, it wanted more.
Morning, noon and night
You were driven to write
Of how you saw people love, fight, or hate
Or fornicate, or mate.
You just had to write
Morning, noon, or night
The world, you saw the world as we never knew.
And cooked for us a whole new brew
Of stories, that will last till the end of time
For me to relate to, as if they were mine.
Oh Shakespeare ! You can with words express
A love of great tenderness.
And in another line or so
You can describe a battle, blow by blow
That was not only horrific
But your attention to detail was terrific.
The blood, the gore, the horror
Would be remembered well beyond tomorrow’s morrow.
In another world, beyond your ken
A world of men who fight, and fight
For what they think is just and right.
Your words will be found
To be like a seed upon the ground
That grows, and flourishes into a tree
That will live forever in your memory