Boe

Into my bosom poked a small child by the name Boe. Said he, some things are just so 

so

cute !

Poked he again and again, said he it simply won't do! You, take it away !

I cackled I pitched a slip; seeing my fixity he up backed.

Yes he back a step did, and began - jousting ! My oh my around his barren form he patted away, swung and flung his sticks and flicks. All the while plipping "away, away o peculiar way !"

Avast ! a tiny circular orb popped out of his chest ! 

Now says he I cackle I pitch a slip

Offered me his orb a fortnight ago, a most peculiar disease haunts my chest ever since. i cannot stand to look at the boards of highwaymen, the poor bored Ben, the eyes of your lonesome pet, nor the peckles of yellow on barren grass.

Oh, it simply won't do ! Poke I again and again.

What a strange creature you are. 

Why cackle you? Why slip a pitch?

Where is your orb? Is it only half? Is it lost? 

Did you give it to me? 

Wait. Are you Boe?