There was a jester, a colorful man,
Whose complexion was not in the least wan,
Even the most surly laughed in his presence.
Most appreciative were the peasants,
It amazed all that he did not smile
For all those present laughed all the while.
His wild hair shone as the sun at noontide,
No sword or dagger ever hung at his side.
No man could ever hope to match him in height,
His low position belied his great might.
He declared that Oxford he did attend,
Whereupon further questioning did send
His mind down philosophic corridors
Careening with all his logic toward
The quintessential objective of life.
He was a somber man who had seen strife,
It is believed that he was a lord
But soon possessions he could not afford.