Its a tale, old and true, through the ages to you
a man good, brave and noble quite grand
he’s from stories of old, and songs sung and yarns told
stout of heart but alas such small hands
From when he was a lad, he would say to his dad
One day I, will for sure, be a knight
But alas his dad feared and he scratched his long beard
Not convinced that in fact his son might
For his hands so quite small, even though he was tall
And a sword he could surely not hold
It would fall from his grip, to the ground it would slip
Left defenceless alone in the cold
“Perhaps it’s not for you” , said his dad, his heart blue
“Maybe you should consider your trade
Jesters are in demand and with your tiny hands
You would surely have your fortune made
You can dance, perform tricks, they will laugh, give you tips
You can jape, as they point at your fingers
Dressed as harlequin king, telling jokes then you sing
Of the Celts cross the sea, all such gingers
Okay so I will stop there. Ever start a post and persist and persist and then realise you’re wasting your time? Well this was one of those. For some reason I got into my head that a poem about a knight with small hands called Brian would be a good idea. I like to think I am pretty creative but beyond the title that is all I had. I started to write and got a few nicely rhymed bits done and then kind of backed myself into a corner.
Instead of stopping what I did was keep going which was a bad idea because beyond King, knight and jester I wasn’t wholly convinced of what other jobs you’d have in medieval times. Priest? Blacksmith? Boil Lancer? Pot Emptier? So another bad idea there obviously.
I did toy with the ridiculous and there will forever be remembered the missing verse where I discussed just how much bigger things seem when held in small hands. I thought for a while that it was funny then realised it sounded like it involved a child’s hands and a grown mans…well you know. I quickly deleted it.
I was then going to try and make it some sort of political commentary on Donald Trump which just made me think that I should perhaps shut the hell up because there are limits to weirdness and an allegorical tale about Donald Trump through the medium of a small handed knight is just stupid.
So this is it. A lesson in knowing when to say enough is enough because as much as you might like your title and the noble looking photo you found on pixabay sometimes there just aren’t enough words to rhyme with hands…