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I once knew a poet called William,
Of renown was this Stratford lad.
A writer of plays and sonnets was he
And his gags, they weren’t half bad.
Now Queen Liz wanted him to join t’ army
Cos she’d  ‘eard pen was mightier than t’ sword
And if this were really true
She could well beat Spanish horde.
She pictured Will as a warrior;
Well his last name was Shakespeare,
And she thought that the Spaniards ‘d tremble
If they heard that he was getting near.

But he didn’t impress Raleigh or Drake.
Two more of Liz’s great band.
“We’ll not have nonce what writes poetry and prose
On any of the ships we command”.
So William the bard got barred
He did not get on board with his sword.
And though William the bard thought he was ‘ard
‘is sword was more bawd than broad.
Now ‘ed written about the King ‘eneries,
One of whom was Liz’ dad
And remembering ‘enery’s fondness for ‘eads
‘e ‘oped she never got mad.

One day the Spanish came visiting
As Drake, his bowls he did play.
He said “’ey up lads ‘ave you come for a scrap?”
And they said “Si” and “ole”.
Now at this William felt miffed
And sat down to write a sonnet
He had enough in the lines he’s allowed
To put enough emphasis on it.

He sculpted his verbs and his nouns
And his insults were quite that of a predator.
They cut and they thrust as from the masts they were read
Such was his iambic pentameter.
Against this the Spanish had nothing.
Back to safety they quickly retreated.
Of William they roared and they cheered,
Never before has an enemy been so forfeited.

Now Liz and the court were impressed.
Never before had a battle been so fought.
No blood had been spilled nor gunpowder fired
And of mayhem and killing there was nought.
Honour had remained intact
And  the victory was ours.
The pen had proved mightier than the sword
A fact admitted by the disavowers.
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