You're currently reading the original word-weighted version of A Stitch in Rhyme.

This version has been retired!

To read the current webcomic version, start here.

Step right up, have a seat, all you footmen and maidens
and admire this tale that I weave.
Once you’re snared in the tangles with which it is laden
you might find that you never can leave.

Do I hope you read on? I hope you’re all ears,
for this yarn is no ordinary tale.
You’ll be knotted in love, hitch a wagon of tears,
but don’t trip on the coil of betrayal!

Market Square Droddy Welcome

Right this way!

Now, I know that you know that the words that I choose
cannot break through your skin or crack bone
but they still can cut deeply and no darker bruise
can be made by sharp stick or blunt stone.

I can’t say what will happen as you round the next bend
but I’ll guide the footpath that you’re traveling,
for this tale is all yours to see through to the end
and to find by yourself its unraveling.

 

Oh but wait! You have questions and thoughts that are echoing
‘tween those flaps on your head you call ears.
You need answers, without them thanks much you’ll be going
so I’ll allay at least one of your fears.

Okay you! You in front with the head like a yam!
What is it that must be addressed?
It’s to know about me? You want to know who I am?
Well get set to be duly impressed!

Droddy Pype is the name. Have a tale? I can up it.
I’m a maker of fine minstreling.
I use puppets as props, or a prop as a puppet
which I show before peasant, priest, and king.

Among kings I myself am that royalty rare:
king of men? No, I’m king among jesters.
Take a sec, look around, and you’ll find everywhere
many worsters and none are my besters.

King Droddy

Kneel before Drod.

Now I know some who fear that there’s not enough depth
in the shallows of some foolish jape,
but as any fool knows it’s a finely turned jest
that can reach and grab truth by the nape.

If the tongs of my wit and the hammer of my tongue
give a pinch or a punch or offend,
it’s to tap your mind’s cask and to knock out the bung,
take what’s straight and give it a good bend.

 

If your beliefs can’t be shaken and they’re all that you’ve got,
if revelation of truth is your fear,
then walk on—by all means—hurry away and do not
let my words sink their hooks in your ear.

But if deeper unveiling of delicate truths
is a thing that you think you can bear,
won’t you please step right up, have a seat at my booth.
Life’s an onion: let’s peel off a layer.