Medieval Camelot
I’m sure you’ve heard of the Great King Arthur and Lancelot’s well-known fame.
But there was yet another knight, of great glory and great fame, never named.
His name was whispered constantly, everywhere, around those hollowed halls.
For no one wanted to be near when he passed by, on his famous unerring walks.
A knight so very gallant, that he would bow to: every fashion of maiden, high or low.
So fierce his life could not be taken, no matter how sharp the blade, they did throw.
A musical quality followed him everywhere, and his livery was absolutely divine.
He would have been the perfect knight, except for one minor, itty bitty, tiny flaw…
What was his name, you may ask, and what led to such glory and illustrious fame?
He was Sir Dragon Sparkle Farts, and yes, you can guess, what earned him that name.
You see, an evil witch, he once did fight, and yes… he absolutely won, most verily.
But before the witch became undone, she sprinkled a curse upon his own, to be.
Whenever others are about, you guessed it, yet again; he had sparkle farts, my friend.
Do not laugh; he was to all, a dearest friend. Tho the trouble caused, was rampant, in the end.
You see, in that time the villages were all made with beautifully made, thatched roofs…
He flew betwixt and between, yet, an occasional spark now airborne, did veer off, poof!
So for the most part he walked in town, though the wheat fields were often, set off.
At least the castle was made of stone, though many a tapestry did not survive, well off.
Indeed, a water bucket brigade, became put at his disposal, simply all the time, amen!
And nobody did tickle him, for fames from both ends, became quite rampant then.
Laughter did, yes, the same… But hiccups brought utter flame throwing despair, to all.
Still he was a beloved knight, so the round table was set to keep his back, to the wall.
The knights all stuck together, thru thick and thin, and yes, even thru his sparkle farts.
But with great sadness: of why such a fierce warrior, could be forgot, I now impart.
You see, his name Sir Dragon Sparkle Farts, did not ring, minstrels romantic thoughts.
Historians, thought his references, just crude, forgettable laughable jokes, The Sots!
But know, when Camelot finally fell, and even he could not stop that inevitable tide.
He flew away, to the great blue North, they say, where with snow and ice, he abides.
Now, young and old, do not be sad… For the moral of this fable holds:
All he did was: for his friends and the Greater Good… He cared not for Glory or Gold.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
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