Greetings, Gentle Reader:
I have before me a poem that was recently discovered hidden in a wall, behind a broom closet, on the 4th floor attic of the Bilious Refectory of St Pythos The Charred, 2 Close Way, Bangers-On-Mash, Wankershire, England.
All internal evidence points as with one eye that it was intended as work d'art, a carta de introduccione if you will, for the author to gain favor with an unspecified, but literate woman. Other works of this era refer to such-said women as "stackedde". The author is evidently familiar with more-than-basic Principia de Pharmacopia, and was competent with the use of the astrolabe and perhaps the Astroglydde.
Gyrl, Youe Knowe Yts Trewe
In thyss letterre, unadorned bye circumflexxe,In a word, the references and cadences it is couched in are, well, prescient. Some say that this document may join the hallowed inner circle with the likes of the Nostradamus, and the Shroud of Turin [as modelled by the Piltdown Man].
Moated by serfe, andde imperis rex,
By guttering light I penne thyss screed,
Cribbyng fromm the werkes of Venerable Bede.
Your profyle immaculata [verso/recto]—to boote,
At the shore, I'm seated, imitating Kanutte,
Attempting to conjure with Saynte Johnn Rootte,
Cracke'd jokes to make yewe hoote.
My Travelles notte so grande as Prester John,
Nor lyke the Moore—Ibn-Batuta,
But byy many leagues to the farre horizonne,
And never once to the Isle of Hooters.
Oh! shytte howdie, my daye is donne,
Beowulf, Grendel—no home runne.
Bases loadded, Valkyries ande Ring.
The heavennes partte: Fatt Ladye Singges!
Not mountebank or jackdaw lesse,
In versifying I do confesse,
That these words are trewe--noe more, noe lesse,
My prose profile limns, the True Mr TS.
I am and remain,
yr Humboldt Obliviant idiom Savant
Erasmus Binkster Rfp, SoQ, AMf
Hellmouth Amalgamated PolySci
Tue, 07 Mar 2006 09:26:29 -0800