Lyrical Balladry

Again, I acknowledge commentry so spectacular that, humbly, I provide for you the October 25 comment by Anonymous, postulating the following in regards to Stephen Hawking's concurrent divorce filing and seeking a new "assistant."

"My love he hath a-Hawking gone
Upon St. Stephen's Day
He has his maryjane wig on
so curly, blonde and gay

Whither go thee, Hawking mine
thy wheels all oiled and shiny
thy batt'ries charged so full and fine
thy ointment turpentiney?

Why down the lane, St. Agnes School
is having their recess
the very thought doth start
my drool
my lingam doth flouresce

The girls, the girls, the
Catholic girls!
all shrieky and at play
I'll mingle in my golden
curls
and nothing will gainsay

Oh Sister Mary Herbert come!
that strange girl in the chair
has asked if she may see my bum
she gives me quite a scare

The Constable was of a mind
to bop Sir Stephen soundly
but kept his truncheon back
behind
and lectured him full roundly

A man of your position roam?
I'm sure I can't conceive it
ain't you got some puss to
home?
whyever would you leave it?

He wheeled him gently to the van
and up the ramp he pushed'im
to the district court they
ran
where Magistrate fair squshed'im

Seeing as how you're England's pride
an astronomy star as it were
I could let you off with a
fine on the side
but it's really up to her

Hawking gazed upon the girl
and the girl she looked at
him
you'd think he'd make her want to hurl
but instead he roused her
quim

Sir Stephen you are very
cute
and your limpid eyes have
affected me
just give the Crown their
punitive loot
we'll pretend you never
subjected me

Then departing the court,
descending the stair
She grinned at Sir Stephen, passing his chair
Checking to see if Matron
might spot'em
She flashed Sir Stephen her
sweet rosy bottom"