Jack O' Hare On Saint John's Eve

It's Saint John's Eve
said the frog called Steve
The Eve of Saint John the Baptist
and I've got the results of my lab test
I'm allergic to flies
so in Japan no fries
so no Twitter photos from Anthony Weiner
or they'll be using formaldehyde for my cleaner
down at the morgue
where ghouls do gorge.

Agreed Jack O' Hare
with a touch of flair,
it's St. John's Nativity
which we'll mark with civility
until the carrot wine does flow
and my bunny nose will glow
from much imbibing
amidst good tiding.

It's Saint John's Eve in the Enchanted Forest
where Sarah Palin leads a pro-climate change chorus
and Al Gore conducts flatulent cows
whose methane gas wows
the crowd will fall dead
so many zombies a' head
in a world topsy turvy
like an upside down curry.

It's Shakespeare's Midsummer Dream all over again
where the robin will sing in tune with the wren
and it's Bottom's up in the glen
he's made an ass of himself
while Puck grins on the shelf
what fools these mortals be
no stars for Pyramus and Thisbe
but two thumbs down
as Snout adjusts his gown
playing a wall
over which bugs do crawl.

'Tis fine theatre indeed
as Steve smoked a poppy seed
in opium there's hope
I ain't no dope.

HIgher than heaven
and the number seven
observed Jack O' Hare
as he sipped eau clare
as Steve climbed Heaven's stair
a lead Zeppelin was he
as he crashed into a tree
enjoying the revelry
of this Bacchic hospitality.

-A poem written by Christopher Van Helsing
Thursday evening, June 23rd 2011
The Eve of the Nativity of Saint John The Baptist.