THE PROLOGUE TO THE TALE OF SIR
When the nun was finished, all were
Not wanting to disturb the somber mood,
Until the bartender
essayed a comment,
Not wanting to seem unimpressed or rude,
needing to move on. "And now if you'd
Oblige us with a tale," he said
"One that might uncouth and wanton be.
"For certain it is
that after that sad tale
We've all just heard, we need a bit of
To that dark wine a pint of bitter ale
With foaming head,
tossed off and quickly done.
Though we enjoyed your tale." (This to the
"It touched both mind and heart. But to the next!"
me.) "One ought not be long vexed!
"You look a likely lad. You must
Of love to get our old blood running fast,
Or sport, or
bravery. Wisdom pales
Alongside vivid moments. Moments last
pulsing with passion. Think of moments past!
Bring them to life with
Oh, well! I tried. But here is my creation.
THE TALE OF SIR
There once lived in the realm of
A dealer who, though not a knight
Assumed a noble
Sir Raymond was this well-known wight,
Much feared in any
A master of the game.
He was six-nine, three
A man whose vengeance knew no bounds:
He'd tear you
limb from limb,
Or mince you with a hundred rounds,
Then feed you to
his starving hounds.
All were afraid of him.
One night while in
a drugged-out sleep
Upon a midnight dark and deep,
He had a wondrous
That caused him out of bed to leap
And wonder what the
Had made his member steam.
It was a maid -- oh,
well, not quite --
But like a bride all dressed in white,
breasts as big as bales,
Bursting out of clothes too tight,
apparition in the night
Designed to torture males.
What was her name? he thought.
He knew that in his dream he caught
glimpse of it somewhere.
Ah, yes! It was in limerick wrought
toilet stall, all fraught
With drawings, crude and spare.
was a faery queen, no doubt,
But of the earlier kind, without
member of her own.
And so Sir Raymond raced right out
To find her,
if she was about.
Her name was Lady Joan.
Sir Raymond had a
A Hummer that could not go far
Upon a tank of gas.
it was bullet proof, and bar
An anti-tank gun, none could spar
it and hope to pass.
Mounted thus, Sir Raymond went
turf, on mayhem bent
If anybody lay
Between his darling, heaven
And his desire, incontinent:
He'd have her, come what
What damsel would not pine for such
A passionate suitor!
Could keep them from each other.
But before he could
And those voluminous mountains touch,
He'd have to fight
"Who goes there!" cried a stranger huge,
Seated in his Hummer,
Dressed in a gym suit, noir
Of silk and cashmere, made in Bruges,
Good for spring or
"I'm looking for a faery queen
Named Lady Joan. Have you
Her anywhere 'round here?"
"My bitch is Joan, but she's no
You better quick vacate the scene,
Or I'll cut off your
"If she's your bitch, get out my way!
She'll be my bitch
before the day
Is over, that's for sure!
Get out your car. I'm gonna
You down. You got till ten to pray
And then you're gone -- no
Back and forth these puissant knights
Hurled insults, as
before their fights
They long were wont to do.
Then came supper
time, and lights
Went on, so they put on their brights
And went at
Finally, they both went home,
Driving through the
To meet next day at dawn,
When they'd decide who
Would go to. Both got on the phone
To get their friends by
How best might I describe the
That with Sir Raymond went to view
The battle he would
Enough to say two hundred two
Made up his fearsome
From the realm of Blight.
Off they went, a caravan
mostly stolen cars that ran
A dozen blocks or more.
A fearsome sight
that blood would ban
From any heart that saw it. Can
I tell you what
Bullet-proof vests were de rigueur,
holsters common were,
All filled with pistols small.
Some did knives
in sheathes prefer,
As fearsome as Excalibur,
Though nowhere near as
With AK-47s the cars
Were crammed, machine guns to the
Though some preferred their Uzis.
And, of course, long iron
Brass knuckles, bats, chains, gas-filled jars --
friends were doozies!
And how was he himself arrayed,
doughty knight to whose quick aid
This mighty host was
Obeisance to him was paid,
And then he led the long
That far behind him sprawled.
He had no gun or knife on
But would his rival limb from limb
Tear with his naked
His back was straight, his grimace grim,
His muscles taut,
his wit, well, dim,
As he made his plans.
His jeans and tee
shirt were in black
With skull and crossbones on the back,
His shaved head gleamed, bright as a tack,
he for deodorant lack.
His socks were fresh and clean.
were girded in white briefs,
And in his pants two
Stood ready for his nose.
And in accord with his
A devil over tattooed fiefs
Upon his throat
Upon both arms were tattooed chains,
And on both ankles,
In armor, mighty men.
And on his legs (though
Depicting scenes from various reigns
Of dealers, now
Thus arrayed for battle great,
Sir Raymond, though a
In his dark Hummer led
His cronies at a rapid
Towards his forementioned early date,
That lesser men might
But he looked forward to the test
That would bring him by
far the best
Sex any man could have.
At least that was his noble
In life, and as for all the rest,
It would not failure salve.
Now some might sing of other
And tell their triumphs and their plights
From tales of
But I defer from those delights
To dwell upon the
sounds and sights --
Here the bartender interrupts
the narrator's tale.
"No more of this!" the bartender
"For God's sake, please! What an infernal din!
My ears are
aching from your worthless rhymes!
What doggerel! Enough! Enough! At
It seemed to me that rocking horse might go
rocking to and fro,
While I, though never seasick, now felt
To make me feel so nauseous is not easy."
"Now just a
minute!" I said. "Is this fair,
That only I am stopped, while others
Can finish what they started? Why stop me?
I'm not so bad, as
far as I can see."
"Then you can see no farther than your
The bartender replied. "Now, please, in prose,
we soon might have an end
To this ridiculous tale, and onward
"You asked for something wanton and uncouth,"
I said. "I
tried. But to tell the truth,
I do not do so well with silly
And struggle with the rhymes. Among the glories
thought is this: The Tale of Mel.
And so I hope this time to tell it
But whether well or ill, I hope that you
Will let me finish
it, as others