Always buy the Puck a drink
Avoid Oberon
Do not at Titania wink
Until her consort’s gone.
Always buy the Puck a drink
Always toast the Moon
Kind words turn Peaseblossom pink
(She is inclined to swoon.)
Always buy the Puck a drink
Tell jokes to Mustardseed
Always live upon the brink
And smoke Hobbit-weed.
Always buy the Puck a drink
but please, my love, be wary
You might lie down in human lands
But then wake up in Faerie.
____________
It occurs to me that in the past fortnight, I’ve written of Fairytale endings gone awry, being exiled from Faerieland, how Elves are jerks, and a certain admiration for Orcs. I suppose, at this point, you might ask, “Jeff, which Elves hurt you? It’s okay, you can tell me,” and I’d reply,
“All of them, and they know what they did.”
But I loved them once; and while that love’s gone to vinegar and acid, I still remember happier times. And most of all, it’s hard to stay mad at Puck.
This was going to be an introduction to this piece, but I thought all this was rather heavy for a silly, wistful little poem. So I put it down here at the bottom.
I wrote a book. There’s a lot of philosophy, and a certain amount of bitter humor, and every damn word of it is true. It’s called “There and NEVER, EVER BACK AGAIN: Diary of a Dark Lord”, and it lives over here on Amazon.
