• Upon a stage
    With deathly age
    Our hero doth engage

    He takes a slip
    And makes a quip
    For he is so equiped

    Then makes a scene
    And seems obscene
    But leaves us caught between

    For if his flow
    Would catch a blow
    His face would surely glow

    He makes us think
    And with a wink
    We see his mood doth sink

    Into a tide
    That doth betide
    The taking of either side

    And while we fight
    With all our might
    He gives a little sigh

    For he has sown
    Within us all
    The apple of discord.