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Stories, Poetry & Content
Site Layout and Graphics ©
2010 Rob Hawes
Most know well his tale,
King, I’m told, unlike his father,
With knights, all butch and male.
He had his throne at Camelot,
With round table in the hall,
His knights, they would all drink a lot,
And down the stairs they’d fall.
There was Lancelot, and Gawain,
Hector, and others too.
They say they were all very vain,
But a handsome bunch, it’s true.
They thought it sport to woo the maids,
Right out from in their knickers,
They’d even plan and go on raids,
They were worse than city slickers.
Now of the bunch there was just one,
Who didn’t like these games.
He’d rather pray than join their fun,
The rest all called him names.
Sir Basil wasn’t like the rest,
For a start he didn’t drink,
He changed his shorts, and wore his vest,
And didn’t even stink!
On his head, not one hair was left,
Completely bald was he.
Of golden locks he was bereft,
And had been since twenty three.
The others thought it quite a lark,
To call him names like louts.
Particularly after dark,
“Look two moons!” they’d shout.
Poor Basil left, it got so bad,
He went off in a huff.
Tolerance, he no longer had,
So, he packed his stuff.
He rode out from that mystic place,
On his noble steed, called Fred.
A doubtful future, now he faced,
With nowhere to rest his head.
He roamed the land for many days,
Doing deeds of great compassion,
Helping peasants in many ways,
In his own peculiar fashion.
He wasn’t tall, or very strong,
He wasn’t even handsome.
He knew at once his right from wrong,
So honest was he, and then some.
He was so shamed of his bald bonce,
He never showed his cranium,
His helmet tight, his head ensconced,
As if it was uranium.
A rumour strange, began to race,
Amongst the local fools.
They said to look upon his face,
Altered folk to toadstools.
Now in this land, just off the map,
They said an ogre dwelled.
Unlike Shrek, that jolly green chap,
This one really smelled!
Ten foot tall, he was twice as wide
As any man around,
His mere presence made people hide.
No hero could be found.
The gossips said, on kids he lunched,
But no one really knew.
He did steal sheep, their bones he munched,
After making stew.
A pretty girl, one sunny day,
Went out for a stroll.
‘Twas blackberry time, down her way,
She forgot about the troll.
Troll or ogre? They didn’t know,
No one got that close.
If any man got near this foe,
He’d likely soil his hose.
Young Jemima’s mind was jumbled,
By a romantic book she had.
You’d think her dad would have rumbled,
That books for girls were bad.
One tale it told, of brave young knights,
Who battled for the hand
Of maiden fair, who watched their fights,
Awhile, her pretty face she fanned.
As she collected berries ripe,
The ogre happened past.
He grabbed her with one mighty swipe,
And made off bloody fast.
Her absence wasn’t noticed yet,
And not till very late,
They found her bonnet, very wet,
Next to the ogre’s gate.
They called a meeting in the hall,
To work out what to do.
Not one amongst them had the gall,
They didn’t have a clue.
The sounds of hooves came from the street
They rushed out for a look,
Sir Basil rode upon his steed,
Whilst reading the Good Book.
“Sir Knight!” Dad cried, now there’s some luck,
A hero just in time.
“We really need a man of pluck
To rescue daughter mine.”
Sir Basil told old Fred to stop,
And looked at all these men.
“Why me?” he asked, in quite a strop,
“What’s wrong with all you ten?”
They looked about, and shuffled feet,
In shame and abject fear,
“We couldn’t ever hope to beat
This ogre without proper gear!”
They looked at Basil, and his lance,
His sword and armour bright.
It only took them half a glance,
To work out who could fight.
Sir Basil sighed, and shook his head,
At this pathetic rabble.
“I have a price!” to them he said,
“We’ll pay without a quibble!”
He nodded once, and then he said
What price he had decide.
“I’ll take the maid, if she’s not dead,
To become my bride!”
Her father gasped, tried not to beam,
A wayward wench was she.
To marry well, had been his dream,
But now a knight was he!
“Agreed!” her father said, post haste,
“I’m afraid she may be supper!
Time is one thing you can’t now waste,
The ogre may be up her!”
This grisly thought played on his mind,
As he agreed to fight,
He didn’t know just what he’d find
He hoped she was all right.
Jemima fair was petrified,
And screamed and tried to run,
The poor old ogre realised,
Just what he gone and done!
This maid so fair was actually
A right pain in the arse,
This deed was turning out to be
A monumental farce.
With fingers solidly in deep,
Stuck within his ears,
The ogre wished quiet she could keep
She’d brought him close to tears.
Not only did she scream so loud,
But also she did nag.
So much in fact, the ogre cowed,
And on her applied a gag!
He saw the knight as he drew nigh,
With sword and heavy mace,
He rushed to meet him with a sigh,
And a smile upon his face.
Now, I’m not sure if you’re aware
An ogre’s bloody ugly,
A smile from him can really scare
If you’re not too plucky.
Sir Basil watched this fearsome sight
Come rushing from the shack,
Sir Basil went quite white with fright
And felt his courage lack.
When at the point of turning tail,
And making like a sheep,
The ogre spoke, and made him quail
His voice was very deep.
“There is no need for us to fight,”
The ogre told the man,
“My taking her just wasn’t right,
The shit just hit the fan!”
“I took her on a silly whim
I don’t know why I did it.
“I’m sorry now, it was so dim,
I feel a thorough tit!”
Basil looked in the ogre’s eyes,
And saw no trick or fear
To say that he was most surprised,
Would be pretty clear.
“I have one favour, if you please,
When you meet the deputation,
Don’t let them know she went with ease
It’ll bugger my reputation.”
The knight agreed, with some relief,
And from his horse dismounted.
His knees they shook just like a leaf,
As now a fight was discounted.
“I have to say, there’s one more fact
I feel I have to tell you
Before we seal our secret pact,
The girl is a dreadful shrew!”
“She screams and nags and always shouts,
She makes my life pure hell.
She kicks and waves those arms about,
“I’ve had it, can’t you tell?”
Now if old Basil had any sense,
He’d’ve buggered off right then,
But no, the man was just so dense
He entered ogre’s den.
Despite the warnings, oh so clear,
He went and freed the lass.
And took her back to father dear
And wedlock...oh alas!
However, on their wedding night,
He at last removed his helm.
She took one look at her special knight
And was sent to ecstatic realm.
For she found men without their hair,
Would increase her heart rate,
For finally, Jemima fair,
Had found her dream bed-mate.
Everyone has heard of Arthur,
If you have any comments about this poem then please
click the feedback button above and post them in my forum.
Stories, Poetry & Content © 2010 Tanya Allan
Site Layout and Graphics © 2010 Rob Hawes