O wat the hay
I’m thinking life’s too short. Giving the idea of a little sensitive fantasy the royal send-off. Once the ghost of old chris morley settled in, I could see I don’t have much of a chance .
So, why not just go all the way and make her royal, as well as a royal pain. Or three or so removes from royal, in the family. Supposedly betrothed to cousin Michael, who’s somewhere in the line of succession, and answers to Auntie Queen about where he goes to say his vows. pippip
I can’t remember what they’re called–the liner notes? In Shakespeare’s plays somebody stands and gives the setting, telling you what’s happening and what to look for, tragedy or laughs.
Well, I’ve written me a brief synopsis in that vein, not going into much, though. No mention of disguise and whoring women poets. Or, for that matter cursed poemizing men, sent away from home as boys. I use the plural, both of these are singular, but what the hey.
we shall have rot and poppycock
and laughing voices off
let us have tears upon this stage
laughter’s tears or if not tears
let’s have the smiles
that recognition brings
and find no wisdom here but incidental
here fools play at nobility
while nobles play the fool
