[with NO apologies to Beowulf nor my high school English teachers]
There is a Saxon Fierce
As strong as 30 steers
Who claims he's felt no fears
In all his 80 years.
'Round him rise up jeers
From warriors chugging beers.
Baywolf rises as he leers
Greeted by his brave band's cheers.
What I see now does certainly beat all
In this, the cold and stench-filled mead hall:
Baywolf, standing proud and tall
Sees his opponents 'round him fall
As his troops prepare to maul.
Soon all that are left are a foolish two
Who faint in fear when Baywolf says "Boo."
Baywolf, the victor, feels quite bold
And turns to his men, ready to scold:
"Comrades-in-arms, you know I am old
And down to my bones I am always cold.
But, you, young men, are not very bold,
For rather than bathe, you're covered with mold.
And unless we kill this bard, 'twill always be told
How, among us, this ignominious day
Men fell around us this disgraceful way
As your own odor greeted each nose,
And they fell dead, without any blows."
As they turn on me quickly,
I let out a plea:
If before I die, they'll humor me,
And find me a word that rhymes with "orange."
----C. Marie Byars
