To the Immortall Memorie, and Friendship of That Noble Paire of Cousins, Sir Larry Appleton, and Sir B. Bartokomous
Brave Infant of Myposium, cleare
Thy comming forth in that great yeare,
When the Prodigious bombardiers did sate
Their rage, with razing your ancestrall Ait.
Thou, looking then about,
E’re thou were half got out,
Wise child, did’st hastily trade Shore,
And mad’st thy wool poupee thine whore
How redden’d a circle didst thou leave behind
Sheep by the score, could we your Hillside find!
Did Cousin Larry take thee in,
From horrours united, stately Sinne,
Where shame, faith, Whoppers, and regard of right
Lay trampled on; portents of death, and night,
Snacks, hurried forth, and spoild
Upon unperfect toild:
Loss, ire, and anguish have the cousins met;
And all on utmost ruine set;
As, could they but lifes miseries fore-see,
Would change the channel, and watch NBC?
For, what does Balki, in Chronicle basement place,
But research fact
Of famous poets, for Larry’s article space,
In this first act?
Lowell Kelly out-did his Peeres,
Took value fourfolde across the yeares;
He hid his poemes, but increased their Rate;
Doubled value, if name append’d;
But before he were ended:
What did this Lowell, but write late?
At 209 Caldwell had he falne, his ink’d hoard–
Worth five and twentie thousands–
They searched well, in various spots,
Tore up books, strew’d cooking pots:
Larry procur’d plans apartmental, and studies them,
Balki frets that hard labour befalls but him:
But weary of prints lined blue,
Larry stoopes in chimney flue
To pursue black verse, fortune untold,
But Balki, so caring, does Towelle with-hold
Because–Cousin Larry, THIS IS FULLE NOT OKAY;
IT IS EVEN NOW 2017 TODAY
Alas, but Appleton in blackface:
Upon him fell, thou fall’st, tin case.
Inside, a Poeme from departed friend,
Describ’d a maze, twiste, turne, and bend,
To room of island Sonne
After paces were done.
From him, so ample, fulle, and rounde,
A catching phrase did there resound,
In rhyme with Kelly’s line does appeare.
The Play-goers delight in what they heare!
Goe now, and search out verse hidden so well,
That thou may sell;
Produce thy messe and miseries on the Stage,
To swell thy wage;
Remove of sculpts a throng–
Such caring hands take long–
But more; from wood and oilpaints and inkwell,
Three ways here arte is wrought
In seasons, one soe brought
To light: her measure; are, how well
Each cousin answer’d, and was form’d, how faire;
These make the lines of life, upon the Ayre.
It maketh not much sense to me,
In this, a tale of poesie,
Of standing long to gaze upon a Walle:
How merge these plottes, I cannot guess at all!
To college? Balki: Nay,
Is fairer farre, to stay,
Although class fall upon that night;
The poeme’s yet not brought to light.
Larry coaxes (sidebarre psychologies:
Negative reinforcement); Balki flees.
See! Noble Larry seeks behind
(Heh) the walls, with chain’d saw to find.
Accept this premise: the apartment’s owned,
And thinke, nay know, Twinkacetti’s flown.
B. enters left the stage,
Possest with holy rage,
To see his Cousin lust for Coine:
Striveth with his Frame to enjoin;
Beggeth Larry STOP his unhappy plan:
Preserve for love of fam’ly, thou Newsman!
Larry, who swung hammer round e’re this scene,
Himselfe does rest,
To taste of that cousinly joy he’s keen
To have exprest,
In this bright Asterisme:
Where it were friendships schisme,
(Were not his Balki long with us to tarry)
To separate these twi-
Lights, the Dioscuri;
And keepe the one halfe from his Larry.
But fate such a joyful aftermath chose,
Whilst in living room, to a poeme expose.
And more directions stand thereon;
To Vancouver–hie and be gone!:
The cousins name this but rude Goose-chase:
Imagine Kelly with broad laughing Face,
The endeavor corrupt:
No treasures, but–hold up.
It rhymes, right? It’s a poeme, guys!
How is this not your hunted Prize?
I must needs rolle eyes, Tongue here I do cluck;
Shake my damned head and ask “What the fuck?”
Music beginnes, the lesson’s learned–
Cousin Larry has his Greed spurned.
Again Cousins approach so one the tother,
Till either grew a portion of the other:
Each stiled by his end,
The Copie of his friend.
You liv’d to be the great surnames,
And titles, by which all made claimes
Unto the Vertue. Nothing perfect done,
But as a Balki, or an App-le-ton.
And such a force the faire example had,
Viewers that saw
The good, and changed not channels, were glad
That such a Showe
Was left yet to Man-kind;
Where they might espy, and find
Friendship, in deed, was written, not in words:
But on the screen, not page,
Of two so young in age,
Whose lines her rowles were, and records.
Who, e’re they off the sound stage strolle,
Make learning plaine, and bid the Credittes rolle.
Catchphrase count: Balki (1); Larry (1)
Boner count: Balki (0); Larry (0)
Join me next week for “Father Knows Best??? Part 1”!
Many thanks to Professor M for suggestion of source poem; insincere apologies to Ben Jonson.