There's a long story I've always wanted to write.
Of Kings and Knights , brave steads black and white.

A lovely queen, her followers both fair and handsome,
A lonely farmer, his 3 cows sold for ransom.

Secretly admire the queen, did the farmer,
but knowing his stature , remained the calmer.

One fine day when the sun was bright,
rode the queen with her banner displaying her might.

A young prince crossed her path, and O ! did he admire,
the beauty of the queen and the propriety of her attire.

Bent down on one knee did he declare his love for the pretty queen,
The Queen- flattered by his guts but worried that he might be mean,
Asked for his identity and his purpose,
for wandering in her lands dressed like a bandmaster in the circus.

-------------------------------

I want to go on with this shit,
but the alcohol has given me a serious hit.

If I go on I might recite a legend, never heard or spoken of,
but if I don't hit the bed now , tomorrow in the office , I'll be the red -eyed Rudolf.

If I'm eight pegs down and I can still make it rhyme,
then I think I'm too drunk and sure no reader would give me a dime.