Fair Usher, I would have a word with thee.
– Pray, Kells, tell all; I’ll gladly hear thee speak.
I’ve met a maid whose aspect charmeth me.
She’s named T.T. and hath a rosy cheek.
– Alack! Black day! This cannot be the truth!
What sayest thou? Thy homie bids thee tell!
– I too have bed this wench; my phone holds proof!
My heart, it burns with all the fires of hell!
– R. Kelly, friend, we must avenge this slight.
I’ll call her up, and thou wilt stay concealed;
She’ll get into the airport late tonight;
We’ll ambush her and all will be revealed!
O what a wicked, cruel, and heartless churl!
To think that we had messed with the same girl!
Wrong. Not in iambic pentameter. Re-write!