Vinegar Byrnes

Vinegar Byrnes was an uncouth sort of gentleman, 

but he had a nice hat 

and he wore it every day.

He would walk with a cane, a most respectable man,

and beat off thieves like a rat

as he trundled away.

A great smile he wore for the whole world to behold,

and threw his teeth at swans,

but none could find blame as such.

And of his adventures many tales would be told,

not but lacking nuance,

and it all seemed rather much.

Vinegar Byrnes yearned for love, an embrace, or a wink,

he was lonely as ever

that, in turn, was his mistake.

He bellowed through the streets as he neared his last brink,

love would find him never,

until he passed a snake.

“What joy,” Vinegar leapt. “What joy and what luck

To have found my own boy!”

And he flourished with a turn.

But the snake liked no kisses for he was no schmuck

nor was he or his a toy.

Vinegar had to learn.

As he bent to the serpent, who writhed in his embrace,

and whispered in his ear

and felt only love.

The snake surged for his mouth and entered the orifice,

yet his master felt no fear

and saw the sky above.

“You have seen fit, my darling, to bite my insides,”

whimpered V without a tear.

“Hiss,” retorted the adder.

Vinegar fell to his knees as was widely surmised

by a court of deer

who then fetched a ladder.

“We must enter his throat, and then to the bowels,”

instructed a stag on ket.

And they took a step.

“Bt yr t lrg t gt n,” replied V without vowels.

“Too late,” advised the vet

who’d pulled out his web.

Hooves and feet and antlers tumbled down the dark abyss,

No bottom there was found,

just deer and ophidian.

For V this was love, to capture the souls was pure bliss.

And his stomach ground

them all down to elsan.

Vinegar Byrnes no longer wore a smile nor topper

his life had departed so quick

he was a naïve nave.

The snake in dead V as well had become a pauper

and was not too slick

but he still dwells in his grave.