Crikey

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
Than Aprille turneth to May ful certaine
And yonge folk in schooles beginne hurtin
To spread themselves throughe ye population
Scrawling frank signes and wordes of copulation
On doors and walles and evry surface I trow
A rude picture theye do purpose – and how.

So priketh hem Nature in hir corages
Thanne longen teachers to go on pilgrimages
To gallerie and farm for recycling of poo
To zoo and museum goen them too.
So did it happen that Yeares 9A, B and D
Did journey to the Victoriane State Librarie
A day redounding to Lowbottomes great glory –
Believe thate and ye’ll believe any storie.

Resideth in Librarie an exhibition of medieval arte
Of beauty sufficient to breaketh evry harte
The yonge folk also were right impressed
(Even if not appropriately dressed –
In civvies they do look lyke sluts and wide boyes
Accompanied alle with ye iPod ear noise)
Forsooth we did sate ourselves ful well
With gorgeous visions of Heaven and Hell
And all manner of folk and thinges sondry
It left us alle in state of wondry.

But of great sadnesse it is to report
(And on this I will suffereth no retort)
In any crowde there is always One
Only too readie to destroye ye fun
And no prizes for guessing therein
That the culprit is Tarquin yclepeth him
Who did (O Mother of God) attacketh a psalter
And with penne of Pentel did cruelly alter

Makinge illuminated manuscript evene bryter
In dayglow orange and one shade lighter
At whiche ye cronies of Tarquin cacked them they
And it was encumbent on me to give them a spray
O, they plead, Mister Diogenes, they plead, O please
Where be the nearest Maccas and we want to do wees
At which pointe ye burly securitie bod did spy
Ye olde figure in psalter had grown snake of one eye
And so legged it we then before the powers that bee
Coulde collar Tarquin, me, and 9A, B and D.