Soldiers in diapers take arms.
A round rock redoubt pouts to resist
The army, its weapons and charms.
When Burnham comes to Dunsinane
The yew trees walk, the oaks remain,
The cliffs retreat down to the plain
And the jackass brays with all his brain.
The battle's joined with wood-pulp creaking
Metal clanging, wise men speaking,
Poets prattling, townsfolk leaking,
and knights drinking from cups they're seeking.
When, at last, some victory's won,
And the horses rest back in the stable,
We'll dream ourselves more bloody fun
To contest across tomorrow's table.
NONSEQUITUR, n. The long sword of a pedantic gladiator.