The Gondolier Remix - Shakespeare Edition

The second author I decided to attempt to emulate with a remixed version of The Gondolier is none other than Shakespeare.

The black prow of my gondola so swift,

Cut smoothly through the waters o so calm,

Upon canals the craft gives me a lift

It’s many years of service like a charm.

 

For many passengers along the way

Through city’s waters I have been a guide

For generations of the service pay

To ancient kin of mine who have now died.

The sun sank down upon the city old,

And turned the water to a lane of ink

Of ribbon lain between the bricks of gold

Of sandstone buildings warm and gold and pink

 

I breathed in deeply of the evening breeze,
No city stands that is more beautiful

This wondrous city of canals doth please

So never is a day within it dull

 

As the boat into its mooring eased

I stopped to gaze with satisfied huzzahs

Another day in which I was so pleased

To be beneath the darking skies of Mars.

The Gondolier Remix - Wodehouse Edition

My very short story The Gondolier has been translated into 56 languages so far, but I wondered what it would look like in English had it been written by somebody else. There are a few authors I like who sprung to mind that I could try to emulate. Here's the first of the remixed versions of The Gondolier.

The Gondolier Remix – Wodehouse Edition

 

The black prow of my gondola, if prow is what I mean – I’ve never got the hang of port and starboard, prow and whatnot - cut smoothly through the calm waters of the canals. The sleek craft had served me well for many a year, carried hordes of chums through the city’s waterways under the guiding hands of generations of my forebears. Or rather, my forebears’ valets.

The sun was preparing to say toodle-pip as it sank over the ancient city, turning the water to an inky ribbon lain between rather spiffing sandstone buildings. I took a good lungful of the cool evening breeze.

If anyone were to ask me, I should say there’s no place more beautiful than this wondrous city of canals. As Jeeves eased the boat into its mooring I stopped to gaze with satisfaction up into the darkening skies of jolly old Mars.