Get Thee to a Punnery

To flee or not to flee, now that’s the thing, 
the rub that flubs us by the final scene. 
We wonder, do we bow to numbered king? 
Exit stage left, or somewhere in between? 

It’s Greek to me, we say in foreign tongue
and translate all the swallows of the sky. 
We gulp the be all, end all, songs uns(t)ung 
a comedy of errors: you and I. 

We take a gander at this wild goose chase; 
of nothing we still make too much ado. 
We break a leg, we bend an ear to face 
the sure uncertain taming of the shrew. 

Well, all is well that ends well. Pray, Huzzah! 
We laughed, we cried, and here’s one last guffaw. 

A slightly silly Shakespearean sonnet for the PAD Challenge, day 10.

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