Per My Last Missive (#Tomfoolery)

==========☕🎩🍰========== Made for #Tomfoolery. Check the link for more details. https://suno.com/playlist/ee4f5b81-7a98-41c1-874c-a0981b9af536 ==========☕🎩🍰========== My esteemed colleagues, compatriots, and persons of negotiable character— I trust this correspondence finds you well. For if it does not find you… I have gentlemen who shall. Hit it. It seems to me there’s been a lapse, a silence one-too-many days Perhaps, perchance, while at the dance you’ve lost the words to say Allow me, most esteemed elite, to cut the quiet haze, To uphold our sentimental gentimental cabaret. Be it sumptuary do or whisky-borne malaise, I must admit I quite resent the dour response conveyed, For since upon presumed receipt of my last bars ablaze, It seems the heat was not inviting, but biting, in a way Fear not the truculence, for ev’ry utterance was praise So let me state it once again in bardic verbal essay: The hour grows long and time is short, prepare your last displays; The Season ends, it may extend, Tomfoolery aweigh! Perhaps the post was plundered, Perhaps the pigeon drowned, Perhaps you wrote a wry reply What doth the hush imply? Per my last missive—kindly see attached: A velvet-gloved reminder with a sabre at the latch. I remain your humble servant—gracious, gallant, mad— With my moustache wax immaculate—my meter barely bad. Per my last missive—answer when inclined, Before I send a second party somewhat less refined. Dear rapper, rogue, rapscallion, respond while there is time, Or by gentleman’s convention, I shall close the doors at chime. With compliments embossed and every courtesy observed, A banquet laid for blackguards, searing syllables or-d’oeuvre’d. I roasted ev'ry reprobate, extolled each rogue by name, But then the verbal volley from the duchy scarcely came. I entertained hypotheses both broad and charitable: Surely dross discourtesy cannot be inheritable. Perhaps your phonograph combusted, burned by sheer finesse; Perhaps the pure magnificence occasioned some distress. These are plausible impediments—I’m not devoid of grace— But sixty-seven silent days are taking up some space. Two months and six days later—though I’ve scarcely kept account— I find the grand response has reached a negligible amount. Perhaps you’ve lost your lyric book, Your spectacles, or nerve. Perhaps perhaps perhaps perhaps— It seems aground has run your verve. Per my last missive—kindly see attached: A velvet-gloved reminder with a sabre at the latch. I remain your humble servant—gracious, gallant, mad— With my waistcoat cut from midnight—my meter barely bad Per my last missive—answer when inclined, Before I send a second party somewhat less refined. Dear rapper, rogue, rapscallion, respond while there is time, Or by gentleman’s convention, I shall close the doors at chime. And now, ladies and gentlemen— The long-awaited response from our distinguished compatriots! Extraordinary. Such restraint. Devastating austerity. Do carry on. While awaiting your rejoinder, I reviewed the fine-print clause: “Extended lack of riposte shall be taken as applause.” Your silence grants me title to the cadence and refrain, The furniture, the premises, the weather, per the laws. I have purchased every pigeon; I have privatized the post. I have placed myself as patron, featured artist, judge, and host. I’ve foreclosed upon the meter, annexed the namesake too; I suppose it can’t be helped, I’ve always loved chap hop the most. Good show! The hunt’s been fun, splendid effort, dear old sport! But August draws its curtains, and the footmen all report: All quiet on the roasting front, you’ve misplaced your panache; Tomfools in and tomfools out; this tomfool holds the court. Per my last missive—this is my decree: A courteous communiqué from your magnanimous MC. I remain your humble servant—gracious, gallant, mad— With my correspondence spotless—And my purpose wholly B.A.D. Per my last missive—pray, respond in kind, Or leave your beats, your pride, and dignity behind. Dear rapper, rogue, rapscallion, your silence suits me fine— For by gentleman’s convention… Tomfoolery is mine! Yours in perpetuity, The Badfatler. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ © 2026 The Badfatler All rights reserved.