Sonnet from the Porch de Grinch

[fr_defenestrato]

Live Journal, never think I love thee not:
In my fond heart thou resteth lord and liege
Whose tribute hath not, shall not be forgot
Amid the traps and tumult that besiege
The hermitage of bald misanthropy
Wherein for one and fifty blissful weeks
Each year I dwell, of clown and clothing free,
Enjoying garlic, onions, and yes, leeks;
Yet when to me remaineth one week more
Of solace, then comes clamouring ado!
The mien monastic I so well adore
With bells doth bruit. And I shall disembowel
Who next occasions, be he fair or foul,
My hearing 'sleigh bells ring-ting-tingling, too.'