I Goosed Shakespeare

I sometimes wonder what the literary world would be like if Mother Goose wrote Shakespeare’s plays. Here’s what I think Hamlet would have looked like:


Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio:
a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.
He hath borne me on his back a thousand times.
And now how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it.
Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.
Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs?
your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table
on a roar?
Not one now to mock your own grinning? Quite
Now get you to my lady’s chamber,
and tell her, let her paint an inch thick,
to this favour she must come.
Make her laugh at that.

Mother Goose’d—

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio
He was such a funny fellow
A thousand times, I rode his back
Now I cringe and want to yack
Here were the lips I often kissed
Now your jokes, games and songs don’t exist?
Where is the laughter you brought while we ate?
Will no one make fun of your gaping palate?
Now go to the room of my wench
Say pile on your makeup a good inch
She must attend this affair
And make her laugh while you’re there.

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