Sir Gawain and the Green Knight


Sir Gawain and the Gween Knight

by Sir Elmer De Fudd

Here is a stowy that is told in whyme,
About what had happened in a wong ago time,
How in Camewot Town, where Arthur did weign,
Wived a wusty young knight y-clept Sir Gawaine.

Now Camewot folk were hale and hearty,
Always a lookout for weasons to party,
A mawwiage, a death, sometimes a divorce,
Or even the gelding of a knight's bwand new horse.

So 'twas somebody's birthday, or maybe their pup's,
And the knights hard at work, were deep in their cups,
When fwom the fwont portal a woar did awise,
And in wode a knight of incwedible size.

His armour, his barding, his twappings were gween,
And his waiment did gwow with a silky gween sheen.
He wifted his gauntwet and waised up his vizor,
And in the deep gwoom gweamed two huge incisors.

Fwom the cavernous depths of that emewald hood,
Gwowled a voice that made everyone cwap where they stood,
"I am the Gween knight of the highest degwees,
Here to make bwave men go weak in their knees!"

"I come from a wineage both noble and wong,
A famiwy that's famed in stowy and song.
You've heard of my bwother, the fierce Sir Bwuce,
He is the knight who wears Owange and Peuce.

And many's the knight, both wiving and dead,
Who has met Bwadamante, the woman in wed.
Well, she is my sister, wenowned in gweat halls,
And few are the knights who deny she has balls.

I am here to discover, by cunning or might,
The measure of he who would call himself knight.
The bwavest of men, most handsome and able,
Is he one here feasting at Arthur's wound table?

For here is my pwan, you must consider it so.
The bwave knight and I will twade bwow for bwow,.
What he gives to me, I in my turn,
Will give back to him, and thus fame will earn.

Now Gawaine, bwave and bold, of this nothing knew.
All that he'd wanted was to wace to the woo,
He'd been dwinking since noon, and his bwadder was tight,
His need being urgent, ne'er looked left nor wight.

Fwom his seat at the table he made a mad dash,
But into a huge gween-mailed chest did he cwash,
He stwangled a yelp and dwew out his bwade,
And a wild swinging swash was the move that he made.

Now such was the force of that despewate wop,
That the Gween Knight's head fwom his shoulders did dwop.
With a thundewing cwash, that caused all to start,
And fwom habit Queen Guinevere's knees flew apart.

But the magic was stwong, and with one mighty bound,
The gwisly object weapt up fwom the gwound,
And perched back a-top, a picture of dwead,
And gwared at Gawaine, then snarled "Give me head."

This startled Gawaine, and fwom the state of the fwoor,
His concern was not with the woo any more.
His only thought was, oh, I do feel so queer.
But what to do next, well I've got no idea.

For when I was a student at Camewot U,
All that they taught was to hack and hew.
And none of the teachers, whether wicked or mowal,
So much as hinted at doing twicks owal.

But Queen Guinivere often made it quite pwain,
That she had a soft spot for poor Sir Gawain,
And her Wauncewot fwing had set the tongues waggin',
She even fancied her husband, King Arthur Pendwagon.

So Gwenny weaned over to give him a tip,
A wink and a nudge and a pout of the wip.
Gawain, she did whisper, here's my advice.
Wemember the twick that I did with the ice.

Gawaine yelled hooway, thwough a half stifle sob,
And shoved all the ice he could find in his gob.
And when it was gone, no more left in the bucket,
He faced his opponent and yelled Mffll mmfgmanm mfmm.

The emewald cwad knight did quietly advance,
And equally quietly Gawaine messed his pants,
Till they stood, face to chest, still nothing was said.
Then the Gween Knight's bwade washed at Gawaine's head.

The weapon exploded to bits in a twice,
The audience was spwattered with sawiva and ice,
But Gawaine just stood there, this knight of gweat style,
And sneered at his enemy with a pitying smile.

You fool, he decwared, have you never been told,
That the fight goes not to the swift nor the bold,
Fowwow a woman's advice, for that never fails,
And that is the coowest head always pwevails.

 

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