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'Twas scribal, and the peerage text
was inked with nibs 'pon the bristol.
All period were the ligatures
and the uncial, artificial.
"Beware the interlace, my son,
the inks that fade, the leaves that scratch.
Beware the fixatives the shun
the Herald's sealing wax!"
He took his cobalt blue in hand,
long time acanthus leaves he wrought,
the laid it by for the guache to dry
and limned awhile on a trefoil knot.
And as the trefoil knot he limned,
his interlace in cadmium red
came bleeding through the bristol board
and on the peerage bled!
One-two! One-two! and through and through
Xacto blade went snicker-snack.
He made it whole and with his scroll
he went triumphant back.
"Hast thou learnt to interlace?
Show me thy work, my warranted boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callig! Callay!"
he chortled in his joy.
'Twas scribal, and the peerage text
was inked with nibs 'pon the bristol.
All period were the ligatures
and the uncial, artificial.
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