A poem about puns containing puns
Though critics, averse to a verse about puns,
Like windows, see puns as a pain,
One humouring humour, a pun never shuns
Nor refrains from a funny refrain;
In refrains, wholly holy, Donne, penning a pun,
Plucks fun like a lyre from his name,
‘And having done that,’ he exclaims, ‘thou hast done.’
To play upon words he was game.
The bard too bombards us with puns on ‘goodbyes’
As when breathing his last in the mire,
‘You shall find me a grave man,’ Mercutio sighs,
Whilst respiring about to expire;
Like lawyers, a good pun will always appeal,
Or like strata, bring tiers to the eyes,
Like fishermen, cause us with laughter to reel
And like wheat, spring a corny surprise.
Comentarios