Friend Or Foe?
The bowmen stepped up to the line
with a twinkle in his eye;
he knocked a feathered arrow,
and set a single shaft to fly.
The paper gnomes in pendulous sleeves
about painted maidens lurked;
the bowman knocked his arrow and,
aimed for the gnome silly shirt.
A puny gnome of paper fell,
pierced through his pendulous part.
the maiden squealed in mortal fear
as the bold archer missed her heart.
The bowman launched a final flurry,
of the finely feather shafts;
and many, many, portly gnomes,
were felled, with arrows in their sashes.
And, so the field of battle cleared,
of fearsome foe that sunny day,
with every ignoble gnome,
set to rotting in the rye hay.
The moral here is quite plain,
for all whose joy seems sparse;
the fool who insults an archer
will find an arrow in his ****.
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