The other night on Jeopardy there were two categories side by side. One was on the Canterbury Tales and one was on homophones. If you have never read the Canterbury tales I will warn you that they are more than just a little bawdy. I hadn’t read Chaucer for quite a while so I re-read a couple of the tales and decided to combine the two Jeopardy categories into a poem. I’m ashamed for making you read it and I am ashamed for having so much fun writing it. It is not proper for any of you to read it so don’t. You are warned. Ministers should not know that I am capable of writing this so please don’t read it. And Jessica and Ian, don’t read it. Women should not read this. Men who are married or someday hope to be married should not read this. Anyone who is married to me, have fun reading it. See what happens when I watch Jeopardy.
Sir Homophone came to meet the maid that somehow stayed so slim.
Her feat was to stay chaste to him and yet by his feet be chased by him.
She had recently lost some weight by refusing to partake in evening sup.
It seemed the more that she pared down the more likely to be paired up.
All night the weak maid prayed so meekly for the Knight that she sees.
But the Knight preyed to be made thrice weekly and she at night to seize.
She hoped he would meet and see her and then choose to wed,
But it was the supper meat that saw the sear that he chews instead.
She sewed her dress then pared the wood and the holy altar made,
He sowed distress when he prepared his wood to wholly alter the maid.
“Maid please tend to me now you’ve said you weekly have sordid sex.”
“Knight please you misunderstand I said I weakly have sorted sox.”
She begged, “Please be discreet with what it is that we’ve discussed.”
He shrugged, “You are awfully discrete in what it is that you disgust.”
But love conspired to steal, his heart soared and they were off to wed,
Then lust transpired to steel his hard sword and they were off to bed.
He was happy because of her sighs and she was happy because of his.
This concludes my good Knight tale and all of this good night tail biz.
You read it didn’t you? Shame on you, I had to read it because I wrote it
but you had a choice. Benny Hill would be so proud.