Though Sir John was a chivalrous charmer,
His life, thought his wife, was all drama:
All banquets and battles,
And squeaking and rattles,
And clanking about in his armour.
Though he swore he’d let no villain harm her,
His wife, more prosaic and calmer,
Wished, just to herself,
She’d been left on the shelf,
Or gone off and just married a farmer.
Tag: knight
Good night, Sir Knight
Knightly heroes, in sonnet and ballad,
Saved maidens, soft, gentle and pallid,
From dragons and such,
Who said “Thanks very much!
Want a root?” (Strike out “virgin”. Not valid.)
By a lake in the woods
She exclaimed “Oh, my goodness, Sir Knight!
I was bathing! You gave me a fright!
Why, I might have been raped!
I could not have escaped!
Though, of course, one would put up a fight!”
The French wench
Bold Sir Percival, fighting the French,
Came across an inviting young wench.
He thought “God, what a charmer!
And me in my armour,
Locked in without spanner or wrench!”