Bananagraffe on 'T H E S H R E W'

As Saiph, with Beta Ceti, set,
to wit: abandoning to wet
erewhile sere isles -- soon sunk, you see,
beneath sopp'd southern seas (too twee!) --
more stars sank slowly in the West,
while I from Morpheus more rest
to wrest limn'd imprecations three:
"Bonjour." "Shalom." "Good morrow, thee.
O Morph: do do thy thing in re
this matter of my dreaming, eh?
Down from thy hypnagogic tree
descend, while cachennating, 'Whee!'
Then grant that hibernation we're
so keen on. Hear! Hear! (Or, Here! Here!)
Here ends the pangelingual stew
I've call'd "The Framing of 'T H E  S H R E W.'"