The swarthy Wellington-boot
When nights draw in, and pubs resound with tales of Arthur's deeds
We sit ourselves around the fire and speak of wicked needs,
Of missing links, and palimpsests, and antiquated creeds.
The kindly coals, they glad our hearts, and make us lusty yet,
We tell our tales of daring, of the maidens once we met
Who marvelled at our bearing, and gave us anisette.
And when the moon glows ever round,
The hunger in me starts to pound
The strongest urge, the heart's resound,
The steps of ancients on the ground.
Oh! For that age of daring deed, of noisome tribes to slay!
Political correctness had not yet come to stay,
And no confusion rose from claiming one was feeling gay
If the cappy liked the skippy, he'd just arsk him to stay!
| Contributors: | TG, Stacy, Bop, Simon, The Agent Apsley. |
| Poem finished: | 15th February 1998. |