Synopsis of 14th to 17th century poetry in English
Sumer is icumin in
Lhude sing cuccu
Now’s the time for us to screw
For soon shall I die
And so shall you
Then throw in some Greek mythology
Add a Roman warrior or two
Make sexual orthodoxy your barrier
To any variant shrew
And forget not the urn
To which all mortal coils return
Avow our life’s purpose lies as hence
Oh future publishers amass ye pounds and pence
The impropriety of piety
Give it a rest, poet
Debauchery is necessary
To run a church
Not an ossuary
Detach from yourself
Maybe live a little
Leave the holy books on the shelf
Take a taste of sinner’s spittle
Don't make not sinning a sin
How can you atone
From what is just a spin
Of a barren bone
Only God claims existence guiltless
Don't chide your perfection
Parishioners ignore your distress
Sin is your profession’s protection
Your life seems a bore
But you act like such a sinner
What are Satan's wiles for
But to mark the path of a beginner
Consider Adam and Eve
Before knowing the serpent's fruit
Unable to conceive how to conceive
Learned to become humanity’s root
They transitioned through transgression
Needing a translator to speak with God
This is the founding of your profession
For which you should give the Lord a nod
T. M. Shorewick 