The twain fell to the floor
Of the kitchen below
And wrestled in earnest
With, sometimes, a blow.
Now no one could dispute
That Sir Oak was brave
But dumb luck was his forte,
His weapon most grave
However, clever Oak
Tripped Grunt with's foot,
And Grunt came tumbling down,
The ugly brute!
But then Grunt started singing
This horrid chanson,
Leaving Poor Oak to wonder
'What is going on?'
This terrible singing
It seemed was a call,
A summoning cry
To Grunt's hell-hound thrall
A huge slav'ring hound
With a wire wool coat
Leapt over the threshold
Heading for Oak's throat
It had great blood red eyes,
Sir Oak froze in his track,
When down from above
Molly leapt on it's back
Molly kicked, and she punched
At the hound's sluglike face,
So it stopped in its tracks,
Looked at her with disgrace.
Moll's kicks and punches
Had been quite in vain
But her keen daggers
Would be the beast's bane
She quickly despatched
The bloody eyed hound
And turned to help Oak
Who was still on the ground.
Without warning was a cry
From the highest tower
Oak's ears pricked up
Turned to the voice like a flower
Help me dear Oak and
Save me from this place
The castles burning quickly
We can flee without a trace
'Twas a cursed siren!
And Moll tried in vain
To bring him to reason,
To save him from this game
But their fates were sealed in stone
And their triumphs waxed and waned
For on that day, Oak and Moll
Were intertwined in fame
(Sir Oak and Molly are in the same room at the moment!)
"Wrongly you spurned me,
You cannot save Oak!
And now I'll kill both of you!"
Spoke Sir Grunt with a croak
(Oh, and welcome to the thread, paulaj!)
(thanks fortune, it's fun, I need to pay closer attention, need to re-read)
Sir Grunt struck at Moll
With a fist of steel,
But Oak used his knee
In a way Grunt could feel
The spell was broken
By fear for Moll's life,
But Sir Grunt was determined
To cause yet more strife
Poor Moll was near fainting,
A pale shade of leek;
Her pulse like a bird
Fluttering and weak.
