2001-11-05 - 12:16 p.m.
Today I'm posting Lady Shelby's most excellent ballad concerning certain events at this past Pennsic. Hope all is well with everyone, and I'll post something again soon!
Q
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The Ballad of Super K
The fair Queen of Atlantia did chose her champion strong,
Sir K, tall, golden, fair of face, earned fame by sword and song.
Garbed richly, his own work, he swore, and gloved majestically,
White gloves of power in court he wore, as he stood for all to see.
Good knight by day, by night, much more, few knew his secret way,
For under his tunic, the White Cup of Power, the Cup of Brave Sir K.
In battle, strong as five was he, his foes guessed his secret not,
All admired how nattily he dressed and how valiantly he fought.
At Pennsic, in a battle hard, tragedy befell his King Havordh,
Flinging fierce Mid warriors about, He tore the Royal shirt,
"Can no one rid me of this meddlesome tear?" Havordh roared into the crowd.
"I have more battles left to fight, and Atlantia must look proud."
"Fear not, my liege," Sir K leapt to, and took the tattered coat,
"Martha Stewart is my middle name, and my needle's swift as a goat."
As dainty now as he was fierce before, when melees he had won,
He fixed the rend, and the valiant King once more in battle shone.
The grateful Queen, distressed herself, "What thanks can we give you, Sir K?"
"You've earned all awards a knight can earn, and n'ere asked for any pay."
Queen Mab appeared, "May I suggest, Sir K's white cup of power is bare,"
With dainty hands, in colors bright, she emblazoned "Super K" there.
"This intent of this device is not to shield thee from battle's blows,
Thine own prowess is quite enough, this protects from other foes.
From dishonor, this cup now guards, for with it comes a price,
Should you a lady unsatisfied leave, the consequences are not nice."
"The feminine arts thee has mastered, won renown with thread and pans,
But none questions that a man's other part pulses there inside your pants.
As Queen of Fairies, I should know, men promise troth to keep,
Yet falter, and up short they come, causing fair maids to weep."
"As Super K, thee will have not that threat, a maid's pleasure lies with thee,
But if thou break faith with any maid, thy distress is upon thee.
The enchanted cup will shrink with lies, thine honor must be true,
Else the unkindest cut will be your fate, and that day thee will rue."
Sir K was near speechless with the gift, his gratitude was frank,
"Two noble Queens, to you I give my humblest, sincere thanks."
To sneak a peak at his new shield, Super K did bow so low,
Under his tunic, the talisman, like a rainbow it did glow.
"Your Majesty, you inspire me, I've one more task yet to right,
Your Ladies-In-Waiting I will escort to enjoy a Ladies' Night.
I'll keep them safe from prowling wolves on the paths down to the Bog,
Where pantless men tempt maids to Hell while wreathed in thickest fog."
"Well said and much more kindly done, to invite them on this walk,
My Ladies, flowers of Atlantia, await at Ten-thirty of the clock.
Now back to battle, good Sir Knight, now dubbed as Super K,
To help my husband with his fight, and with the East to win the day."
Good knight by day, by night, much more, few knew his secret way,
For under his tunic, Queen Mab's gift, the Cup of Super K.
In battle, strong as ten was he, his foes guessed his secret not,
All admired how nattily he dressed and how valiantly he fought.
The Ladies primped, the Ladies primed, in disguises were they robed,
Not wanting Atlantian foes to know they wandered far abroad,
A ransom fair, a fair beauty commands if caught in wartime's perils,
And how much more, a bright Canary, as before swine are cast pearls.
How excited were they, birds a flutter, their color ran so high,
Awaiting Super K, they sat, ready, at his merest sign to fly,
The virtuous ladies, ten in all, told stories while they waited,
Of Queen Mab's gift, and Sir K's might, while the hour crept ever later.
The moon crept high, near overhead, nearer ever to the morrow,
When from Super K's camp, a messenger came, with tidings of great sorrow.
In valiant battle, the East had won, Super K had done his best,
But celebration and fatigue had put his promise to the test.
No parties wild, no bare buttocks, would her Majesty's ladies spy,
From Calontir to Tuchux Hill, did the Kingdom here them cry.
Their warrior fierce, his celebration fiercer, had driven Super K to slumber,
And left unsatisfied the Queen's Canaries, ten all in their number.
Good gentles heed, you know that all good stories have a moral,
And pardon me, this one's plain to see, it's telling needs not a Laurel,
Good men, if thy gifts would lend thee to battle or to mend the Royal tunic,
Unto the ladies please be true, or find yourself a eunuch.
---Lady Shelby of Blakrose, sent via email August 27, 2001
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