Emma Williams - Of Princes and Queens

Of Princes and Queens

The night was still the air was cold
through the forest the brave prince rode.
His sword was drawn and quietly chinked,
in the pale moonlight his armour winked.

His faithful steed flew through the night
as the darkened castle came into sight.
Its walls were high, its moat was deep
not a soul stirred as he approached the keep.

Up in the tallest tower, under a silent moon,
behind guarded doors in a dark locked room,
weeping quietly on the stone window sill
was a maiden held against her will.

Our prince had some to set her free,
the poor enslaved (jail-bait) Marie.
He wasn't really one for noble quests
daring deeds or hero's tests.

He'd wound up here because he'd lost a bet,
but, he mused, this was no time for regret.
So with a flick of his mullet he stormed the castle,
wondering why saving maidens was so much hassle.

"I'm here to rescue the damsel fair,
the one with the gorgeous tits and long, flowing hair."
A thousand guards were roused into action,
but the prince was ready for their brute reaction.

The troops advanced as the drawbridge dropped,
but the prince was not going to be stopped.
The battle was bloody, the battle was long
but the prince barely set a noble foot wrong.

He did rip his tunic and he broke a nail
but he knew he couldn't fail.
He stormed up to the dark, locked room,
getting ready to catch the maiden mid-swoon.

With a ripple of bicep he held her tight,
and Marie squealed in sheer delight.
He was tall and handsome and simply divine,
(he could have been a model for Calvin Kline.)

"My saviour!" she cried offering no resistance
as he stared heroically into middle distance.
But pressed up against her didn't excite,
(I mean his trousers didn't go suddenly tight.)

And here's where we reach our story's real sinew,
are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall continue.
You see the young prince had his eye on another,
he rather fancied Marie's younger brother.

His baby curls and silky skin
brought to mind all manner of sin!
His cheeky smile and pert little arse,
this maiden business was all such a farce.

But fairy tales shouldn't go that way,
I mean what would the neighbours say.
The prince and the pauper don't end up shagging,
but their love showed no signs of flagging.

So they fled away hand in hand
far away from story land.
And now they live on Clapham Green,
the brave handsome prince and his pretty queen!