With your last jest I'm quite impressed
Round one was quite well fought
But out of the blue here comes round two
With ample food for thought

In a battle of wits I must admit
Most others would be alarmed
That I would politely turn them down
As they would seem to be unarmed

But this battle is a special case
That gets my blood aboil
This poetry I sweat from my brow
I consider honest toil

Should I use my disarming smile?
Or sharpest of rapier whit?
Or use your style against you
And trip you with a quip?

So have at you again Miss Mook, fair Lyke
And if you wish, bring help
For I will hold no quarter
When I spank ya like a whelp

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Letum, in the year 435 AD.