X) Shakespeare Down Our Lane

SHAKESPEARE DOWN OUR LANE

Say Shakespeare breezed along our lane right now -
He'd cop a view exactly like the one
He would have dug four hundred years ago
And wouldn't say it sucks, but, 'Wow, rock on.'
Along our lane and past our titchy pad
Are scenes to touch the big guy's heart big time.
He'd see the stuff that always made him glad
And reel off some way cool Petrarchan rhyme -
Of sheep that nosh our sweet crushed velvet grass
And foghorn pheasants whirring through the blue;
Of banks with wild thyme blowing, bet your ass
And cuckoo bud and campion stoned on dew.

Say he peeped through our window in the gloom -
Flip-all would freak him in our lamplit room.