He comes to the world on an English stage,
His words branded into all the children.
His thoughts flicker through every writes page,
a wise master to all men and women.
He travelled from Europe to the Middle East,
from London to the streets of Verona.
He twisted truth like a romantic beast,
and even got laughed out of Vienna.
But his life was the truest tragedy,
falling to death after a merry drink.
To this day, we can’t spell his name properly
because he would scribble whatever he thinks.
Do you know the man who I speak of?
Have a moment, this was a labour of love.