QotD: Your bow is not broken but you've run out of arrows. How can you fake being a bard?

I found a bow with no arrow
It wasn’t mine, but that was fine
Bent backwards, so, stringed to and fro
Now while you dine, I’ll croon a line

Though born ill-starred, it’s no canard
I’ve sung the truth, I’ve strummed from youth
It’s not that hard to play the bard
I cannot speak untruth, forsooth

I’ll sing to thee for minor fees; I’ll sing of trees, I’ll sing of bees
I’ll sing of fauns or mowing lawns; I’ll sing anon of Percherons
I’ll sing of shes and whiffletrees, of wild banshees and chimpanzees
Of demi-johns & Myrmidons, given praise or yawns, I’ll sing ‘til dawn.