Shakespeare From The Dead

Me thinks that these people overthink,

Me knows that like fools they do blink.

My well-known scribed work of arts,

Now completely torn apart.

Thou shan’t ruin it for the future,

Stop with the analysis, figures and lectures.

When at my abode I had scribed it neatly,

Never had such deep references occur to me.

For men now, fair is foul and foul is fair,

They overturned my dense excellence to frothy thin air.

They are of academic worth,

But the annotations used now make me doubt my own work.

Hath not a dead man right over works of his own,

Fie! To all thee, analysing souls.

Anyway, I must not mingle in predicaments such as these,

For I am a dead man and must rest in peace.