Period, Poetic Insult Comedy
Miscalculating cur, don’t spar with me-
I am the iamb King. Foul thing, depart!
I’ll bend thy childish meter o’er my knee.
Cry not, you blubbering bairn, do take some heart --
I’ve heard the deaf prefer thy jobbie art.
Go, drown my biting barbs in seas of ale,
For Ishmael just harpooned a Great Scots Whale!
Thou loud-mouthed drooping villain, dost thou jest?
Old pickled Fool! The motley of thy kilt
And nonsense rhyme do suit that role the best.
Thine ego’s armor, candy-glass when built,
This scalding skald will melt, the tea is spilt:
The leaves predict thy stunning lack of charm --
This brew is black, foul hack, and means thou harm!
Poor Ruaidhri here, piss-poor performance brought,
As rough-wrought as his scotch-soaked Scottish brogue.
Thy ragged doggerel lines, thou mumbling sot,
Miss measure like thy shirt, are as in vogue.
My Peerless verses prove thou art a rogue.
Flea-bitten stray, go skulk back out of view --
This bear mistook is just a Highland Coo!
For Skewered! 2, the theme was pairs in all places -- pairs of fighters on the field and paired performances and artifacts for A&S. To that end, Ruaidhri an Cu challenged me to a flyting, an exchange of insulting verse in an agreed-upon format. We would prepare our stanzas in advance, and come to the event prepared to lay seige to each others' egos.
The form we chose was rhyme royal, a well-known format consisting of 7-line stanzas, rhyming ABABBCC, and are usually written in iambic pentameter.
When developing my verse, I tried to focus on technical density, interlocking sound devices, and really strong "punch-lines" in the last line or couplet of each stanza, in order to demonstrate overwhelming virtuosity and leave my opponent staggered just before he had to recite. There was certainly no arguing with Master Ruaidhri's record of performance and depth of repertoire, so I decided his downright uncivilized dress and notoriety as a consumer and brewer of drink to be fine fodder!
A few references were built in to either his Scots persona, like "jobbie" "cur" "sot" and "brogue", or to modern references which may not be comprehendable at first, including "the tea is spilt" (which means the truth (T) has been said) and the out-of-period play on my name, Ishmael, to the protagonist of Melville's Moby Dick in the line "For Ishmael just harpooned a Great Scots Whale!", a playful comparison of Ruaidhri's...healthfulness to my wispy physique.
To this day, I can't be sure whether I won the flyting or not, but it was certainly fun, and encouraged me to go on to host an enormous flyting with 14 of the finest writers in the Kingdom as participants.
photo courtesy of Emeline Ha Radhani, Shire of Roxbury Mill