What do you get when you cross poetry with medieval times? See above.
This reminds me of a story about Groucho Marx. While having dinner at a restaurant with guests, a man and woman walk up to his table. The man tells Groucho how much he enjoys his work. Rather than an autograph, he asks Groucho to insult his wife.
Groucho: "Looking at her, I can't believe you haven't come up with something on your own."