Of the Jubilant Jester

The jubilance of a jester is one to be revered

From the joviality of his heels to the vibrance in his cheer

Steer clear, ones might whisper desperately in your ear

For his boisterous charm may bind you to his whims

Voice as loud as a torrent

Movements as messy as a current

An annoyance to the inhabitants of the stone-cold audience

Fists in popcorn-filled pockets

Or clutched on rust-stained lockets

A sight for sore eyes, for lemon-squeezed sockets

Onlookers might huff indignantly indeed

Plead for his performance to crumble to its knees

Indeed, indeed! One would exclaim with glee

But the jester only smiles, only preens at their seethes

For he himself is merrily happy

Of the attention, of the stares, of the eyes and bodies

Of his song and his dance and his comical hobbies

For he himself is enough; how gaudily naughty!