Just screwing around here, not to be taken seriously.

[milo]

Three flasks of liquored words I've shared with Cook,
although it seems, to him I am forgotten.
I listened to his tales told from the bottom
of a hemlock laden chalice. The Book

of Alderon is plowed upon a field
and Michael gathers thatch and stuffs old clothes
but gives them not a pen or sword to wield,
declares it friend then tells it to scare crows.

Is that Michael holding Yorick's skull?
Or questioning a straw man of his fate?
Will he answer now the three crones' pull
or is this self-examination much too late?

My "friend", he now entreats me call him sane:
"Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him . . . what's your name?"

[milo]

"What's that?
hell, it's full-lipped phil,
my frill-nipped pal
from Bryant Hill."

"Yes, you fool! he's
tipped a spell
of whiskey drips
and fell pell-mell!"

"No, you don't say
philip's fallen
I here the bells,
St. Martin's callin'"

"Yes, I'm sorry,
philip fell
he tripped
his lips
now spall the well."

[Leanne]

Poor Yorrick is a skeleton
his skull is white as winter
he was Hamlet's friend but he met his end
when he found what Ham was inter

Young Hamlet was a likely lad
whose mother loved him dearly
as he got undressed she would bare a breast
and he'd cop a little feely

[Bunx]

hehe it reminds of of playing dragon age the board game with friends! HUZZAH!