When a fellow fencer came to me with a plea to help write a mocking poem or song about a king of a non East kingdom at Pennsic, who announced that he wasn't taking shots from RBG (rubber band guns) and was subsequently asked by the marshals to kindly GTFO... I couldn't say no! (I also took like 4 months to get it done, sorry Brigid) but... I present to you...
Jabberdooky.
Twas sunny. And the Pennsic Fields
Did swim and swelter in the heat
All antsy were the fencing folk
In battle, for to meet.
“Lo, gaze upon the lists, my friend!
The bales of hay, the grass like thatch!”
We’ll gather us by the rezpoint now,
Our forces for to match.
Their blades were gripped in glove’d hands
With daggers bright, and bucklers sound,
Loaded they the rubber bands
Left piles on the ground.
“Lay On!” Was called by marshals fair
Long time the battle points they sought,
And gathered they by the sortie gate
The melee battle fought.
One! Two! One! Two! And keen and true
The rubber bands go SNICK and SNAP!
Opposing tape was lured within,
The cunning Tyger trap.
“Oh, why, my friend, do thou yet stand?”
The clever gunner queried him.
“You surely felt the fearsome shot,
To chest, and not to limb.”
“Forsooth!” the cry from leaping foe
“My death your shot can never bring!
Say I, a Royal, on this field…
No gun can slay a King!”
They argued there beneath the sun
The King in rage did stamp and snort
Until he called the marshals in
To judge the bloody sport.
“This peasant with his gun has tried
To slay me from well out of reach!
I say that Kings will not accede,
Now you will vouch my speech.”
“Your Majesty,” the marshal cried
“Of course, I see you will not yield!
“Safe from shot in camp you’ll be
Please, do get off my field.”
Oh, hast thou cast off fractious king?
Come to my fire, for an ale!
And I will cause a poem to be
For to record this tale!
Twas sunny. And the Pennsic Fields
Did swim and swelter in the heat…
All antsy were the fencing folk
In battle, for to meet.
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