When Bacchus calls, the sun doth wane, a jovial dance, thy spirits gain. 'Tis time when mirth and ale dost flower, marking the end of toil's dour hour.

He took away six of my name I am left with one, what a shame But my old pals, they still call me the same Chirp chirp, it’s lively here, twenty-four seven I am a place for your short opinions

On the skin of a peach, the bum of a bee, the static on screens of old CRTs. Add Y to the end, and what name would grace ya? The first of an ursine with full alopecia.

Pallid face, Collared cape, Evening stroll, Nubile nape...

What do Sir Isaac Newton, Steve Jobs, and Eve have in common?