Monday, January 10, 2011
"I'll surrender my armies and hand up my sword
depending on how you will treat me, my lord."
The weary commander, resolved in his voice,
sized up his opponent then gave him a choice.
"Stand down your attackers, call off the strike,
and I'll mercifully put your chopped head on a pike."
"What would you do with my body below?"
the squinty-eyed foreigner wanted to know.
"I'll tie your bare limbs one each to a steed,
then drive them to gallup away at high speed."
"And what would become of my thus quartered torso?"
"I'll paint each limb blue then bludgeon it moreso."
"And will my piked head be looking toward home?"
the supplicant asked as the commander groaned.
"Listen, you jack-wad, you're going to be dead.
What does it matter which way goes your head?"
And with that the commander unsheathed his sword,
whacked his opponent, cut off his gourd.
The lesson, my children, to take from this bit
is get what you can but don't sweat the small shit.