So there I was at this SCA event -- the Bard of the Mists competition banquet -- and there was a request that if any food fights occurred, they were to be conducted by proxy in writing. These are two of my contributions to the fray.
When that I spille wine in shoures soote
Upon thy head, and drench it to the roote
And bathe every hair in swich licour
Of which vetu engendred is thy ire
Whan Zinfandel eek with his swete breeth
Drips lovingly from off they nose and teeth
Thy tendre pride burns fiercely like the sonne
But with dinner his half cours y-rune
There be no foweles bones in hand to fling
Nor stale bread, nor any stickie thing
(So priketh me nature in my corage)
So longe I send this vine-pressed embassage.
Let me not to the marriage of this rind
And thee admit impediment. Not love,
It alters where it destination finds
Although the target move, and yet remove,
Oh no! You are an ever-fixed mark
At which my aim is true and never shaken,
Be glad 'tis not a chunk of wand'ring bark
But unknown peelings, from an apple taken.
Thou look a fool, for on thy lips and cheeks
This curléd rind and juicy pulp do come
'Twill wash away by scrubbing hours and weeks
But we'll recall, e'en to the crack of doom.
If this be silly, and my jest unloved,
I never writ this note -- it can't be proved!