t a period when knights were as common as days
(A pun that is somewhat rheumatic),
They pranced and cavorted on chestnuts and grays,
On milk-white Arabians, and beautiful bays,
(Equestrian bays, not aquatic).
And foremost of all in the deeds of a knight,
Chivalric, dashing, and fearless,
Down-putting the wrong and up-setting the right,
The paragon champion, the peerless,
(A pun that is somewhat rheumatic),
They pranced and cavorted on chestnuts and grays,
On milk-white Arabians, and beautiful bays,
(Equestrian bays, not aquatic).
And foremost of all in the deeds of a knight,
Chivalric, dashing, and fearless,
Down-putting the wrong and up-setting the right,
The paragon champion, the peerless,
And smiter of Saracen bones, Was Sir Christopher Jenkinson Jones. Now “Chris,” as his intimates called him for short, (If very familiar, “Chrissie”), Considered the sportiest game of all sport Was tackling wild monsters of every sort, Which kept him most hustlingly busy; For dragons, and griffins, and hippogriffs grim, Were thicker than flies in that region; They carried off people, fat, medium, and slim, To forest, and mountain, and cavern-holes dim, In numbers amounting to legion. And roused by their captives’ loud groans, Was Sir Christopher Jenkinson Jones. |
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