defiling classic poetry, act I

upon request of my annoyance, er, brother, I have composed an alternate verion of shakespeare's sonnet #XVIII, shall I comapre thee to a summer's day. here is the sonnet in full:

shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
thou art more lovely and more temperate:
rough winds do shake the darling buds of may,
and summer's lease hath all too short a date:
sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines
and often is his gold complexion dimmed;
and every fair from fair sometimes declines,
by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
but thy eternal summer shall not fade,
nor loose posession of that fair thou owest;
nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
when in eternal lines in time thou growest;
so long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
so long lives this and this gives life to thee.

wasn't that BEAUTIFUL? Now how it is read in Bobland (keep in mind that it is not intended to make ANY sense what so ever) :

why must I compare thee to a summer's day?
thou more ugly with a temper
not even a breeze could blow through thy desert soul
every moment with you is like a thousand days
thy nose, like a pest's protrudes too much
and you have very, very ugly tan lines
if fair be foul than you be fairest fair
Oh pants! you are like a horse, untrimm'd
but thine infernal mother will not die!
and yet I may not loose poison in her bowels.
and still you brag that you wear Death© brand shades
when through the coffin to the ground thou growest
only then will I fin'ly breathe and fin'ly pee.
only when you die will I at last be free!

notes: Bob is a shakespeare geek, and so enjoyed throwing mud in the bard's face through mockery, for he would was like a toad, ugly and venamous! and if mine eyes may wound now let them kill him! he wouldst be rotten 'ere he be half ripe, for by mine oath I would look for a fool to find him, I do desire that we should be better strangers and he shouldst sell when he can for his is not for all markets!
bob is okay now.
anyway, I started to make another version (defiling classic poetry act II) in which I kept to the Iambic Pantamiter, but it was just stupid so I burned it, like I do most things. but if you havn't read any of the Bard (you know who you are) don't let Bob turn you off to him, read Titus Andronicus (I hope I spelled that right), it's like Shakespeare meats Quentin Terrentineo ( I know I didn't spell that right) so anyway, goodbye and beware the ides of march!