Namtrah Family/Poetry of the Unknown Bard

Ode to the Badger on My Arse

That night he left the tavern singing,
The catcalls in his ear still ringing,
Singing, ringing,
He felt the stinging,
Of a Badger on his Arse

"What's this?" he cried, first looking right
then left, but could not catch the sight,
Left, right, no sight
From whence the bite,
Of the Badger on his Arse

On he went, twirling round,
No view, but still the gnawing sound,
Around, the sound
The source not found,
Of the Badger on his Arse

Then suddenly, with mighty rip
the Badger from his Arse did slip
With rip, did slip
Flesh from his hip
Took the Badger on his Arse

Oh, Badger! why doest thou hound me so?
From town to sea, where e'er I go,
E'er I go,
Thy bite I know
Oh, thou Badger on my Arse

Why not, then, Sir Bufort?

Is not the cheese Limberger,
Known as Noble?
Not for its color,
Nor yet its texture,
But distinctly for its smell?
Why not, then, Sir Bufort?


Is not the muddy Earth,
Lauded as Noble?
beneath our boots,
it seeps and roots,
And yet still Praised for cloying?
Why not, then, Sir Bufort?


Is not the mighty stud Bull,
Proclaimed wide as Noble,
sweating and grunting,
the sweetness it's hunting
never once bringing it shame?
Why, then, on Sir Bufort?

Sir Voidsmith

Sir Voidsmith was
an infiltrator,
An infiltrator was he,
They told him "Sir,
you must have a disguise"
So he dressed up like a tree

"Not a tree," they said,
"They will chop you down,
You must have something else instead"
So he thought to himself,
Then laid down on the ground,
And pretended he was dead

"Not dead," they cried,
"That's a worse disguise,
They'll bury you in the ground"
So he thought some more,
Then got on all fours,
And bayed just like a hound

"A hound?" they wept,
"That will never do!
They'll kick you left and right!"
So he searched around
Found a hole in the ground
And slipped right out of sight

No one knows
how deep that hole
and by now he's probably rotted
but to this say I
that you can't deny
Sir Voidsmith's never been spotted!

Vera

A mission
Sir Loronzo Grey
A dark, cloudless night she creeps

His quarters,
Unnoticed she glides
To where Sir Loronzo sleeps

Silent, now,
Her target surprised
though his wound, it be not deep

The guards cry
In darkness she flees
Another wabbit is reaped