Non-Sens Pretentieux 8

The ghosts of William Shakespeare and, His beloved pet howler monkey Mischief, Were once again on high cliff-top, Looking down on all humanity. Gazooks! Exclaimed The Great Bard. Methinks what a mess it is down there! They're dropping like nine-pins, So much death and destruction! And all hope is abandoned by so, so many! So many are just giving up and calling it a day! Oh! I'm not on about that wretched virus, My dear, dear Mischief! Not the great leveller! Not that satanic virus at all! Mischief then looked into his master's eyes puzzled. Then The Great Bard simply said... I'm speaking of the PoemHunter war between many wretched poets! And with that Mischief nodded then, Scratched his red monkey arse.