Death by Spenserian Fruit Enchanter

Colin Cloute: Mr January in Cosmopolitan magazine's 2009 'Shepherds' Calendar

Here’s a stanza about how I ran into Colin Cloute, the alter-ego of the Elizabethan poet,  Edmund Spenser, and he caused my face to fly off, fatally, by using his ability to produce musical sounds out of fruit on a Braeburn apple stain on my face. That’s right: I too am a victim of the musical fruit decapitation epidemic that is currently gripping ‘Cameron’s Croakin’ Country’ (note to self: must find better catchphrase to replace ‘Brown’s Broken Britain’) . Here is the stanza:

John Le Baptiste was pricking on the plain,

Yclad in loafers and chunky knitwear

His face all y-spreckled with Braeburn stain

Which madeth the plain-folk to tut and stare.

Colin Cloute at this time did tune a pear,

For he could produce songs from any fruit,

He saw the Braeburn stain John’s face did bear

And eke he made it whistle like a flute:

Alas, off came John’s face with a rooty toot toot.

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2 Responses to “Death by Spenserian Fruit Enchanter”

  1. oldrope Says:

    This sort of thing was indeed common cerca the period of time we have conveniently failed to specify (Lizzie lived a lotto). Not the fruit flute, or the face flying off – palpable nonsesne to modern day intello-beasts like you and I – but rather the belief that Colin Cloute could reappear almost instantaneously and blah blah blah blah

    Yours,

    An Historian

  2. johnlebaptiste Says:

    Intello-Beasts! To Battle!

    I must confess the whole incident is a puzzle to me. What was Francis Bacon doing there? Why was he crying and pointing at his codpiece? To whom did the finger belong? Was there any truth in what the Thane of Cawdor said about the Spanish Armada being trapped in a tiny thimble of quince? Why was Sir Walter Raleigh shaking his head as if to say ‘Hey Nonny Yes’ while simultaneously singing ‘Hey Nonny No’? Whence the Blackbird Pie? Whither the Snodgrass Soup?

    Any ideas?

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