Listen carefully, please, to me

And I will tell the company

A funny little story.

At some time in history

There was a knight and gent

Good at battle and at tournament.

What was his name?

Sir Thopas.

He lived in a far, no, distant country

Not very near the sea.

He dwelled in a city called Hamelin

Famous for its porcelain.

His father was a rich man, and grand.

In fact he ruled the entire land.

What was his name?

I don’t know.

Now Sir Thopas was a brave knight.

His hair was black, his face was bright.

His lips were red as a carnation.

But then so was his complexion.

I could have said, red as a rose,

But I will confine that to his nose.

How big was his nose?

Enormous.

His hair was as yellow as mustard paste,

And he wore it right down to his waist.

His shoes were from the Vendôme

And his clothes were made in Rome.

They were so expensive

That his father looked pensive.

How much did they cost?

Thousands.

He could hunt for wild rabbit

And had acquired the habit

Of hawking for game.

He could wrestle and tame

The most ferocious ox.

He could whip the bollocks

Off any contestant.

He was no maiden aunt.

There were many young virgins

Happy to slake his urgings

When they should have been asleep.

But he did not so much as peep

At them. He was chaste as a lily

And stayed so willy-nilly.

So it befell that on one morning

Just as the light was dawning

Sir Thopas rode out on his steed

In hope of doing daring deeds.

He held his lancet like a lord,

And by his side there hung a sword.

He made his way through forests dark

Where wolves howl and wild dogs bark.

He himself was after game,

Which once more I rhyme with tame.

But listen while I tell you more

Of how Sir Thopas almost swore

With vexation.

Around him sprang weeds of every sort,

The flea-bane and the meadow-wort.

Here were the rose and primrose pale,

And nutmeg seeds to put in ale

Whether it be fresh or stale

Or only good as slops in pail.

The birds were singing sweetly enough,

Among the nightingales a chough.

Was that a chaffinch on the wing,

Or was it a dove just chattering?

He heard a swallow sing on high,

And then a parrot perched near by.

What a lot of noise!

And when he heard the birdies sing

He was filled with love longing.

He spurred on his horse

Over briar and gorse

Until the beast was sweating.

It looked like it had been rutting

With a mare.

Thopas himself was exhausted.

He got down from his quadruped

And lay stretched on the ground.

The horse was free at one bound.

It wriggled its arse

And chewed on the grass.

Fodder was solace.

‘Woe is me,’ Thopas lamented,

‘Why am I so demented

For love? I dreamed last night

That I had caught a bright

Elf-queen under the sheets.

What sexual feats

I accomplished!

‘If my dreams could come true

What deeds would I do.

I really need a fairy queen,

No mortal girl is worth a bean.

All other women I forsake,

A fairy girl is all I’ll take

In country or in town.’

Then up on to his steed

He jumped, in need

Of action with a fairy queen.

He rode along each hill and dale

Looking for that certain female.

Then quite by chance he found

A secret spot of magic ground,

The kingdom of the fairies.

In truth it was a little scary

And wild. And desolate.

He was not surprised to see a giant

Whose name was Oliphiant.

He had a mace

Which he aimed at the face

Of Thopas, saying, ‘Get out

Or I will give your horse a clout.

The queen of fairy

Lives in this aery

Abode. It is not for you.

Your horse is unwelcome, too.’

Sir Thopas turned red as rhubarb pie

And said in angry voice ‘I defy

You, Oliphiant, and I swear

To aim my lance here where

It hurts. Come out at break of day

And I will show you my way

Of dealing with giants.’

It was a good show of defiance.

Then Thopas rode away quite fast

As Oliphiant prepared to cast

Stones at him from a leather sling.

Yet our fair knight had cause to sing

When all the missiles missed their aim

And were not fit to kill or maim

The valiant warrior.

He was none the sorrier.