Come and sit here, sit by the fire
My friends and poets around the Globe
And listen to me with a keen ear
For my story is worth being told.
It starts with a guy called Aimless
A Mafia mod extraordinaire
Inviting us to play mafia
While writing poems about maidens fair.
We were told of Cafe endangered
And that our noble goal shall be
To rid it of the wicked critics
Who, in total, number three.
Oh, Kate's Cafe is in real chaos
An anarchist's dream, par exelance
I fear that order can hardly be restored
By performing an Incan dance.
Now I can hear you saying:
“Why do you pester us with words?
The point of poems is to play mafia
Not sing mindlessly as do the birds!”
To this I respond that I am cheer full
Positively cackling with glee
For I think I found who are the critics
As I hope you soon will see.
Mind you, we are looking for three players
Bound together in their lies,
The cause I asked for all your names
Was trying to uncloak their ties.
It's ironic that I write ballads
For comradery I must disregard
With other bards that preform ballads:
I must now accuse The Bard.
Yes it's old Willy Shakespeare
That must be called out to make amends
But not only
Nark, who's Willy,
Nope he also brought some friends.
With him marches his darling
Though not very poetic wife
It's
Inca playing Anne Hathaway
Who loved Willy all his life.
I will thirdly name Christopher Marlowe
And
Wicked, for this is her role's name
For some say that he was really Shakespeare
And that he too deserves some fame.
I would be as pleased to vote
For anyone among those three
I will start by voting Wicked
'Cause she likes to vote for me.
Continue with the caffeine induced banning.)
