Trembling fingers linger hapzardly
over words that may play bards' dastardly
chords. They said music is the food of love,
but it may choke you if you abuse it - broke
fools misuse it, tracing spots white hot
along a brow or a child's untied bow,
settled on a nettled head. You read
the eulogy of a dead man's lullaby,
but its duology provides no sequel -
inside a battle cry, there's equal, eagle's
eye aimed at a picture frame
full of words, nothing but misheard words,
words, words, words, words, words

Socks ran into the fight without saber light,
A dunce was the Sith.
How can you see, was said to she,
Silly girl, you're such a Bith.

The brown lazy fox jumps over the fence,
A simple sentence for every letter forth hence,
Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow,
Both borrowed, with sorrow, from the internet's sow.