Royal Castes of Despair

With a guitar in hand

Plucking ceremonious strands

A Comoedia Guard

Strums away his regard

 

Strutting atop a mule

Commemorating a dual

A Tragoedia Guard

Welcomes the loser’s heart

 

The diametric pair, now concurs

Tickling a hefty verse

Braying and tweaking

An ode to the Queen’s Manikin!

 

They caroled foreign jargon

These Guards of counter-caption

Laughing through catastrophes

Weeping through parodies

 

‘Tis such a pity, a waste

They were stripped and debased

For they scorned the King’s Jester

And now they kiss the soles of the Hunter

 

‘Till Death they dost fester…

 

 

 

-Leah