John McCullagh January 31, 2005
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 Aa the world’s a stage
And aa the men and weemen merely players.

They hae their ootgoins and their äncomins
And yän maan in his time plays mony pairts,
His ects bein seven ages.  At färst the wain,
Gairnin and boakin in his nurse’s airms;
Then the whining schoolboy, wi’ his baag
And shinin moarnin face, creepin like snail
Unwullinly tae school.  And then the lover
Sighin like furnash, wi’ a woeful ballat
Made to his mästress’s eye-broo.  Then a soadjer,
Full of strange oaths and bairded like a lion,
Jealous in honour, suddent and quack in quaarel,
Seekin the bubble reputation
Even in the Caannon’s mooth.  And then the judge
In fair roond belly wi’ gid caappon lined,
Wi’ eyes severe and baird of formal cut
Full o’ wise sayins and maudern änstances;
And so he plays his pairt.  The sixth age shäfts
Ấntae the lean and släppered pantaloons,
Wuth spectacles on nose and pootch on side,
His youthfu hose, weel saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shanks; and his bäg maanly voice
Turnin again tae childish treble pipes
And whustles in his sound.  Laast scene of aa,
Thaat ends thäss strange eventful hästory
Is dotage and mere oblävion,
Wuthoot teeth, wuthoot eyes, wuthoot taste, wuthoot onythang.

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