The Poetry Knight

The Poetry Knight

rode in upon his steed,

then he was gone;

the people sighed,

they had a need,

for poems,

yes, a need indeed.

The Poetry Knight

he hadn’t stopped,

not one small verse

had he dropped

into the laps

of the people;

perhaps he had,

forgotten to stop,

“Begorra! Egad!”

the people shouted,

the people cried,

one of the people was very old

and died (of natural causes –

it’s sad to say,

that things like that

happen every day).

The Poetry Knight

was, by now, far away,

and little did he have to say;

upon the subject,

he was as mute

as the mutest swan,

who was one day here,

the next day

gone.

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