The King needs a hatchet

Reads: 168  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Most rulers lack understanding, compassion, and sympathy for the those that they behead. Most anyway, care to share some mead?

Submitted: June 05, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 05, 2017



Come hether, fair maiden, may I bid you accolades for your acts of the warmest

embrace, please plant another kiss upon kingly face,

and while you're at it bringth me the wine of the Gods,

quite parchial are my mouth and throat,

and doeth your best not to place your hands on his highness's coat.

My king certainly you understandth my plea, 

twilight's eve certainly plea's, cries and moans of extra breeze, 

so my king does that mean I'll be your queen?

Off with your head, 

I went seeking fair pleasure, now your request I refuse to measure,

may your blood fill the cups of those with horns and feathers.

Come forth,

for sooth,

Romeo is dead,

Juliet can not be my sun,

Oh knights, all knights cometh forth, duel savagely until nothing 

more than a duo remain,

but be warned, the fate of one is still unknown,

the other shall spend the closest time to eternity

in my least favorite dungeon with the rat mangled bodies.

My king, dearest king,

I come baring awful news,

I am the only knight, the others lost their swords to the harhest of battles,

some were made cowards,

and now reside on the country side with their wives, children, and cattle.

So my king, what now?

Hm, it seems we have a worry, 

at least you do,  instead we will forget the worry, 

there shall be no quandry, a single knight I have no use for,

so instead,

Off with your head,

Come hereth, court jesture

I admire your foolish gesture,

but be warned, take heed, tread the lightest,

for if I am displeased, at the end of your show

and there is no encore or bravo,

Off with your head.

Well my king, such a garish, handsome, thoughtful king

you have heard many tale, and had many a tail, 

so I must infer, I must imply, so just one try

a childish joke to boost my chance, and save all hope

So my king I ask

What sort of message does a knight recieve?



My king you laugh, you smile, 

there can not possibly be room for frown,

well my king, what do you say?

Count jesture, your efforts will be loved,

and your smile will be missed, 

so I lift this cup of mead, and I leave you with this

Off with my head.

Hm, we lose more kings that way.



© Copyright 2018 Veigha. All rights reserved.