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Page: Profile: Poetry
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Poem Specs
VxPoem ID: 7752
Category:
humor
Posted: November 30th. 2004 7:25:07 AM
Views: 1329 |
King Arthur Chronicles: Sir Bran the Bitter
by Jemma Hawtrey
Age Group: Adult
King Arthur Chronicles: Sir Bran the Bitter-Hearted
Hail, my dear old friends
We meet safeguarded once again
I’ve a tale new to share with you
To take you beyond the common ken
And as this tale wends on its way
We’ll travel back to the distant day
When a cart track was a motorway
And chivalry a nations way
Our guide today is a stout young lad
Whose life so far has been full of cheer
But young Bran now at his games
Will have to grow up fast I fear
His mother is a famous queen
I speak of course of fair Guinevere
A lady with quite gorgeous legs
Who really likes her beer!
Our story starts when young Bran
Is around about 6 years old
When dire financial problems mean
The kingdom could be sold
Those Danish bacon merchants
Wander round the castle grounds
While from the massed accountants
The odd quiet cry of ‘zounds’
Art & Merlin are out a’fighting
Swords flash and dance like faery lights
While poor young Guinevere is left alone
To shiver through the long nights
But the ‘villain’ of our story
Is to be found right near
A man of great financial eminence
From whom auditors hide in fear
His name my friends is still well known
Though the stories aren’t exactly true
He saved the kingdom, fair enough
But not by deeds a knight would do
I speak of course of Lancelot,
The armoured finance man
Who’s saved chivalry more than once
With a cunning fiduciary plan.
Now Lance he saw his lady’s pain
And the lonely shadows in her eyes
And he resolved it to be his quest
To replace with joy her mournful sighs
So at this point let it be known
At first all was as pure as driven snow
And that neither Lance or Guinnie
Knew whence this quest would flow
But the power of happy laughter
Can often fuel young Cupid’s dart
And that lazy fat-buttocked little tyke
Will just aim for the nearest heart
… Those lawyers should have him on retainer…
And let us by rights be honest
As at first they tried to be good
No hands in new places
Acting demurely as they should
But all too soon control was lost
And they got to the up-and-down
Guinnie was screaming so loudly
She was heard by half the town
Now with that sort of racket
Flapping lips they wont keep still
But I suppose it was a wonder
They’d had the pennyroyal pill
But soon our old friends Art & Merl
Return from a great campaign
‘Gainst the heathens of the Cymru,
Awful beer and saddle-pain
So when Art he heard the all of it
He really wasn’t most amused
You really don’t want to know what kings do
When they feel that they’ve been abused
But even in those distant days
Kings bowed to the rule of Law
But as it is in our span of days
A different law for king and poor
Sir Ironside was for the king
Who spoke with measured words and wise
Sir Columbo was for ‘the wife’
An Irish knight with twinkling eyes
And then we have the jurist-men
12 knights tall and good
And a funny little bloke in a skirt & wig
Who answers only the name ‘mi’lud’
But in truth I fear I have lost the skein
And I must make no further digress
So let us move to the judgement of
That strange bloke in the dress
“King Arthur the Pendragon and
Lady Guinevere of same,
The words and witness we’ve heard spoken
Cannot be called either chaste or tame”
“Lady, I can understand the wooden phallus
Or being ravished o’er fallen trunk of tree
But what in the great gods name
Did you do with the apple pie & brie?!?”
(And no, they didn’t eat it…)
“I fear I find against you,
And for our lord the king
So I must force with heavy heart
That you forfeit your life and wedding ring”
Just at that very moment
Lancelot flew through the chambers door
Knocking knights and an unfortunate raven
Like skittles across the floor
And so Guinnie and brave Lancelot
They head for pastures new
To keep their fine heads on fine shoulders
And nurture love that’s deep and true
But alas & alack my patient friends
Our young hero I have neglected
See him stand by the courtroom door
Alone and quite dejected
The King he strode from the chamber
Woe betide any who crossed his way
And he never spoke again to the boy
For many a bitter day
As you could well imagine
The experience changed him for the worse
He grew up into a bitter heart,
Stingy with both his love & purse
And there were many beauteous maidens
Who tried to break his angers grip
And finally found themselves crying lonely tears
And maybe nursing blacked eye or fattened lip
And although his battle deeds were great
He spent his long days quite quite alone
Like the One God in his heaven
No cuties calling on the phone
And as the years they passed slowly
His parents followed events with deep concern
And wondered if their handsome son
Would ever feel true loves burn
And finally in raven-haired Morgause
Young cupid caught his heart
And the bitter hearted swordsman
Found the grasping little tart
I would like to say they mellowed
Over the many following years
I would like to say they gained the respect
Of their families and peers
But this my friends is not the tale
And remember that cautionary saw?
If you scowl like that for too long a time
Like that you’ll stay forever more
The moral of this sad story
Is that your arguments should be your own
For involving young & happy children
Will like affect them when they’re grown
And at the great and final judgement
The Devil will close all bids
When some tearful divorcee howls
“We did it for the kids!”
So now my friends I leave you
And I walk on my lonely way
To find another of the many tales
I’ll learn and tell another day
And sometime in the fair future
This old storyteller will come back
Carrying a worlds tales in his mind
As he wanders along the track
© Copyright Durin ab Iceni (Jon Marriage) 29/11/04
Author's Location: Colchester, England
More Poems: Jemma Hawtrey has posted 70 additional poems- View them?
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