Hamlet, Oh Hamlet, sleep lost in his depression,

The mourning of his father, his cage of oppression.

In garden's mist, love and death is fleeting,

Hamlet plans in secret a fateful meeting.

In much wassailing an accusation born,

To avenge his father, an oath is right sworn.

King's ghost speaks, be it witchcraft or madness,

Hamlet is wrought with ever-growing sadness.

His desire for Ophelia frightens her,

His anger rises; he's not in love with her.

Plots and poisons, swords too quick,

In Denmark soon the blood runs thick.

From the death of his father, and every day since,

He's been subject to his birth: an unwilling prince.