So she let it fly at the pub in the town:
She’d an ale consumption contest
To determine the hardiest best
And would present to that man in a gown.
Many confident men came a calling
For her beauty they drank until crawling
But the maiden had a trick
A candle and magical wick
To allow her to keep drinking without falling!
Now Sir Fry was a humble young knight
Who had loved the sassy maiden – first sight!
And so when it came to his turn
Beneath her skirt he did adjourn
And the maiden’s face became surprise and alight!
Onward the night progressed rather swimmingly
Her opponents challenged her contest willingly
But a quarter to seven or eight
She stood to announce her fate
“I’m afraid none I see survived winningly!”
“You all showed yourselves quite able
And drank enough to enter into a fable
So to you, I cannot lie
The winner must be Sir Fry!
For he drank me right under the table!”
=- Studio Shinnyo 2014. Khattam-Shud, EOF.Posted under Poetry