Ol' Christopher Marlowe's Day
Ardent and true,A knife gliding through
Straight to the heart,
Causing a start.
A shocked pale face,
Framed with yellowing lace,
Gazing blindy
At the man smiling kindly
Holding him up.
It was his sorry luck,
Ol' Chris' lot
That the very same day,
He'd a masterpiece begot!
Ne'er to shine but to grey,
Beside him in death,
Beytrayal, foul play.
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