The Weakest (K)night
Camelot was won of, by not lords, by not King,
but rather knights.
And so to commemorate, their strongest leader uniquely left off for his own afternoon delight.
Camelot's next heir.
Icarus was blinded too, once, and never again, from his exuberance - aired into err.
The drinking of ale requires not a single of strength,
But a million of weakness.
Here, sirens laughing and singing stop every heard man.
Here, where residing, and sorrowing, drank too his foes.
Collared chippers. Chippy chap drinking his celebrations, not sorrows, as his story progresses to a feverous clap.
And so on and on he drinks with his foes
To show them the strength of his mind, is greater than those.
Only angering his Gods,
While he swears to his God -
"I swear to my god," saying with such slipshod Method.
"Come close while I show to all my strengths."
Drinking mug upon mug,
Upon mug and again - "you see here, this is mindness, true capacity. I do do what I do without mind though - it harkens my best ability."
Armoring out of his bod' he summons a sword.
His foes, younger and
Wiser and lively -
Step back, but worry not for his shtick.
He may wield the bladed iron,
But his evident weakness makes it a wood stick...
And who's to know if his bod' has one on it!
Reckoned, rumored, and maybe even true -- no woman can falsify these classifications, no!
Pity, his drool,
It pities him,
But even it scolds itself for moving so slowly out of the mouth of a fool!
Lucking out, the saliva leaves to its safety.
Once, never again, the foes see their opening.
Circumspect he was thought to be, protecting his King,
And though she deemed his strength worthy for him,
He was too weak to deem consciousness for himself.
Stabbing, and looting, and sordidly smirked,
The foes trapped his weakness in his self-justified mirth.
Malevolent, and flippant, of where his bod' went,
They stayed through the night, gaily finishing his weaknesses away.