Tournawocky - Fighter Poem

Tournawocky

'Twas springtime and contenders strove
To gyrate nimbly on the field.
All wistful did the consorts prove
And the populace was thrilled.

"Beware the tourney rounds," my son,
The swords that bite, the shields that catch.
Beware the Florentine, and shun
The furious pike and axe."

He took his rattan sword in hand -
Long time the fearsome foes he fought -
Till rested he by the Crown list tree
And stood awhile o'er wrought.

And as in breathless thought he stood
The master herald did call his name.
A champion of fighting-wood,
To eric field he came.

One two, one two, and fro and through,
The silvered swords went smack and crack.
He knocked him dead (wrap to the head)
And went triumphant back.

"And did you fight in Crown today?
Come bear your arms, and raise your crest!
Oh fabulous day! Huzzah! Hurray!
You're one of Caid's best."

'Twas springtime and contenders strove
To gyrate nimbly on the field.
All wistful did the consorts prove
And the populace was thrilled.

-- Pippin Skylark

...always tart and crisp