In praise of the Jesters, they are not *all* a bad bunch, you know...

What is it that makes the Jesters so different
From enlighten'd halls and evil skies?
It began with one man that was chaos sent,
Found places laughterless, and was surprised.
A school, purposely built
For comic minds, it did train,
And so it was that Boredom wouldst wilt,
From jestings, sound or insane.

The pranks and puppets are not that hard,
Careful planning though may be required.
Perhaps telling fortunes with a Tarot card,
At parties where a Jester should be hired?
Maybe chromatic rays are inspiration
For Jesters pensive look everywhere,
This is one curious vocation
That any Achaean may indeed bear.

But those who have spontaneity
May spring chuckles on a target's head,
For breeding hilarious creativity
Wouldst certainly be the path to tread.
All have humour within,
Even in the hardest heart it hides
But even stone can whittle thin
And then they see what laughter provides.

And those whose spirit is eternally quackers,
Should they be lock'd away?
No more than sackloads of slackers
That pretend to do work day by day.
Madness of all degrees
Is a tolerated Jester mind,
Especially if one could be at ease -
But does every line in mine poem rhyme?

The frown on the face
Of a lugubrious soul,
Is a Jester's place,
To change it whole.
Thy jokes are the key
To banishing this foul thing,
So why not let thee
Go out with a swing?

- The Poet Xaviere, Lady Moncrieff-Byron

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Daedalan, in the year 365 AF.