As left big toe hits bottom of the grave
Dare I bring down the house around my ears?
Why not – I’m all but through with counting years –
Which makes it that much easier to be brave.
So let me play the heretic, the crackpot
Like Mark Twain [whom I count among my betters!]
the Stratford brood had naught by way of letters
and playwright Wm Shaksper sure was not.
It’s decades since this bee buzzed in my bonnet
research brought forth a host of candidates
I trusted academe to aid the fates
And chose instead to not dwell long upon it
For many reasons I’ve not cited here…
Suffice to say The Bard’s Edward de Vere