As I hunted through data CDs for something else, I came across this silly little thing I scribbled out in college. I guess I thought enough of it at the time to save it. Maybe I shouldn't have?
But, soft! What light through yonder window bakes?
It is the yeast, and Juliet is the bun!
Arise, fair bun, be not thou a macaroon
Which is already flat and hard on teeth,
That thou her maid art far more fair than cheese:
Be not then made, since they are crunchious
Their vestal livery are but hard and round,
And none but fools do eat them; cast them off.
It is my gravy; O, it is my roll!
O, fresh from oven she were!
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!