Lord Duncan Rose
fallen in Fall Crown Tourney, A.S. L
A Fox Tale
Come, sit by the fire’s glow. Hear a tale
Of each baleful strike and blow:
Pennants gay and flags a drift on the breeze.
Heralds’ geas on fighers swift:
Advancing or given shrift.
Isolde in vert and purpure be-garbed,
Lady bard with quill a-stir
Duncan’s heart to spur.
Sir Artus, Romano-Brit, takes the field.
Sword and shield help not a whit;
Isolde soothes his brow, knits his sore wounds.
Ne’er to swoon, she urges grit
Hopes abound; fighters' fates sealed.
Ketill struck and
Duncan Rose fell in the fray. His lady bard
Heart en garde, lauds him this day.
Pray tell, what does the fox say?
-- Pippin Skylark
-- always tart and crisp
Fall Crown Tourey '15