Poetry | History | Humor
The Squire’s Poem
Not every story is a tale
There was a young lad
who wanted to fight.
He gathered his armor,
but then spoke a knight,
“You cannot begin with
no goal in your sight.”
With a hey, nonny nonny no.
The young fighter trained
and painted his shield,
He shined up his armor
and weapons to wield,
Arrived at the tourney
and surveyed the field,
With a hey, nonny nonny no.
The knight spoke again,
“Have you chosen your goal?”
The lad shrugged his shoulders
and then bared his soul,
“I want a young lady
to warm up my pole.”
With a hey, nonny nonny no.
He then took the field,
where he killed a duke,
A count, and a viscount,
who started to puke,
So everyone knew
his skill was no fluke,
With a hey, nonny nonny no.
The day grew long
and he was hit in the head.
The ladies all sighed
as he fell, almost dead.
They cried, “He’s so wonderful,”
and took him to bed,
With a hey, nonny nonny no.
