He clomped his way through the bar room door
Feeling musty, dusty, rusty and mighty soar
After a long and hot gruelling day of war
On rickety legs he headed for the bar
But it was plain he wouldn't get very far
With his boots all covered in feathers and tar
There he stood, sweating in his iron pants
Stuck to the floor leaning on his trusty lance
And then he saw it coming, trouble in a glance
She brought him down with a single punch
And before he knew it he was out to lunch
With the family jewels hanging in a bunch
He woke up in the alley underneath a starry night
Knowing that he'd never walk again... just right
Moral of the story.....
Don't walk on clean floors with tarry boots you stupid knight
© Copyright 2016 lainie. All rights reserved.
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