Ruthless Rufus ruled the land 

With iron fist and sleight of hand

And all the people shook with fear 

Whenever Rufus came quite near.

*

And deep within the castle walls

Amongst the fine and splendid halls

The servants they all shook the most. 

And on the day cook burnt his toast

They shook so much with knees a knocking

The castle started gently rocking.

*

And suddenly with great surprise

Before the servant’s very eyes

The castle roof came crashing down

The noise was heard all over town.

*

And for a minute no-one quivered

Trembled, shuddered, shook or shivered

For they knew they were in trouble

Not only was the roof in rubble.

But it landed in a heap 

On top of Rufus fast asleep

*

The King went red then purple too

And finally his temper blew.

And flicking tiles from his head

Sat up and shouted from his bed

*

“Where’s my roof, it isn’t right

For when I go to sleep at night

I don’t expect to be awoken

By a tonne of tiles broken.

I demand to know the truth

Of why I have no castle roof.”

*

With that there was a lightning flash

A puff of smoke, a thunder crash

And out of nowhere, very weird,

A wizened wizard just appeared.

*

With pointy hat upon his head

He glared upon the king in bed.

King Rufus you should be ashamed

The Wizard said, For you’re to blame

It is by being very ruthless 

You have ended up now roofless.

*

By fear you made your people shake 

And caused the earth around to quake

You’re lucky that your castle wall

Didn’t wobble, shake and fall.

*

From that day forth the good King Rufus 

Promised not to be so ruthless

And so to stop his people shaking

Rufus started merry-making.

A laugh, a joke, a happy tale 

And in the castle all was well.

*

But just in case and every night

As he switched off his bedside light

Recalling what the wizard said

King Rufus slept beneath his bed

“I need a table for my Knights,” the King announced one day.

“A table, mighty, big and round, the biggest ever made.”

And so for many, many months the craftsmen cut and shaved

Until that fateful day, in May, the table was displayed

*

The mighty table big and round had only one small flaw

The table, biggest in the land, would not go through the door.

Never mind the makers said, by shaving off a bit 

Of wood from here and there we’re sure that we can make it fit. 

*

And so they cut and shaved the mighty table here and there

But cutting it to make it fit they went and made it square.

“It can’t be square!  We’ll have to change its shape,” they said, annoyed.

“And quickly, if the King should see he won’t be overjoyed.”

*

They cut the corners, cut the sides, cut the legs and then 

The table, round, but smaller now, was set before the King

The King was not delighted; its size was quite a shock 

He put it on the mantelpiece beside the carriage clock.

No one knew why Mucus chose

To scratch and poke and pick his nose.

Not only did he choose to pick it,

But to roll and aim and flick it.

*

The other knights with him were not

Too pleased at always being shot

A well aimed bogey ball on course 

Could knock them sprawling from their horse

*

And so they went to see the king

For him to stop this dreadful thing

And he, a proclamation issued

“Mucus’ bogeys should be tissued.”

*

Now Mucus only picks his nose 

And flicks it at his mortal foes

Because a well-aimed bogey can

Be lethal from the Bogey Man.

Sir Failure’s armour was too small, his sword a little light

His horse, so plump it couldn’t jump, Sir Failure couldn’t fight!

*

He couldn’t joust, he couldn’t shoot an arrow with a bow 

He’d shoot so high towards the sky or else he’d shoot too low

*

He couldn’t save his dignity or damsels in distress

Instead the damsels rescued him when he got in a mess.

Sir Basil was a useful knight, 

Fighting wrongs and doing right.

It once was said he never sinned, 

Except that is, for passing wind.

*

For after drinking fizzy pop, 

Sir Basil found he couldn’t stop

The gas escaping from his gut

And finding freedom through his butt.

*

One day when fluffing in the street

He knocked a vicar off his feet.

The man of cloth was none to pleased

The day Sir Basil’s bottom sneezed.

*

The vicar said, “This will not do, 

Sir Basil may be good and true

But he must find a good solution

To his buttocks’ air pollution.”

*

So from that day Sir Basil tried 

Not to eat things raw of fried.

No more cabbage, sprouts or greens 

Eggs, cucumber or baked beans.

*

But it was to no avail,

Apart from a less putrid smell,

Sir Basil’s bottom, quite surprising,

Continued to keep vaporising.

*

Then one day, a lad with brains

Said, “Connect him to the mains.

All that gas his stomach’s churning

Could keep the village cookers burning.

*

So in the twinkling of an eye,

To the village gas supply

Basil’s bottom was connected, 

Before the idea was rejected.

*

From that day forth he ate his food

Without the fear of being rude.

For all the gas he could produce

Was put to beneficial use.

*

Cooking food and heating rooms

Without producing toxic fumes.

With natural gas always to light…

Sir Basil was a useful knight.

Sir Chuckalot was often seen 

A pale and pasty shade of green.

For Chuckalot was very thick 

And used to eat till he was sick.

*

And having chucked up on the floor, 

He’d often go and eat some more.

And having eaten, in the main, 

He’d wander off and chuck again.

*

“You’ll have to stop,” the doctor said, 

The day that he was sick in bed,

“For being sick is very rude 

And such a dreadful waste of food.”

*

But would he listen? No such luck!

Until the day disaster struck. 

He went about his normal trick

Of pigging out and being sick

*

But this time all the food he ate 

Was not prone to regurgitate.

Although he tried, there was no doubt, 

That what went in would not come out.

*

Then suddenly to his surprise, 

His belly grew before his eyes, 

It grew to such immense proportions

He wished he’d stuck to smaller portions

*

He screamed and shouted, bellowed too

But still his belly grew and grew…

And then a sound like distant thunder

Rumbled in the King of Chunder.

*

You’ve never seen such a commotion

That was caused by the explosion…

And where Sir Chuckalot had been

Was not a very  pleasant scene.

Sir Rainbow was an ugly fellow

His skin was blistered, boiled and yellow

His nose was red, his eyes were black

His brown hair grew right down his back.

*

His teeth were grey, his tongue was green

His language blue and quite obscene

With purple spots and orange tan

Sir Rainbow was a colourful man.

Polly Player, Dragon Slayer

Rode across the land

A big black horse between her legs

A sword held in her hand

*

And though she looked both far and wide

And up and down as well

She could not find a single dragon

She could thus dispel.

*

Until one day, Polly was told

That all dragons are dead.

Poor Polly now is unemployed 

And just kills time instead.

Sir Maurice was handsome knight who always rode alone

He always knew his wrong from right and that’s what made him moan.

He moaned about the food he ate, about the weather too

About the sleep he didn’t get; his leaking leather shoe.

*

He moaned about the work he did, he moaned about the pay,

He moaned about a little kid that pestered him all day.

He moaned about his family, he moaned about his friends

He moaned about the price of tea and all the modern trends.

*

He moaned about the price he paid to bed down in an inn

He moaned about the noise they made when emptying the bin.

He moaned about the poor folks and the way they all seemed thick.

He moaned about the warlocks, how they never missed a trick.

*

He moaned about the government, he moaned about the king

He moaned for he was not content with any little thing.

He moaned about the way nobody tried to do their best

And how their work so rarely shoddy, never passed his test.

*

“Nothing’s ever good enough!” “Don’t do it like that!”

“Everything is far too rough, it should be smooth and flat!”

“Don’t you know your wrong from right?” You’d often hear him moan.

And that is why this handsome knight will always ride alone.