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

But he would not be swayed

His mind up was quite made

And he joined the kings army with hope

And begged to be a knight

They persisted, quite right

Saw his small hands and loud, declared “Nope!”

Though they gave him a task,a quite terrible ask

But he could not refuse, or give grief

The knights he’d make feel great

With small hands masturbate

Boost their self esteem and give relief

Now each night spends his time, giving handies sublime

his small hands make them feel 8 feet tall

And to battle they charge

Wearing codpiece quite large

Brian drips with man juice, big and small

So rejoice, sing his name, we rejoice in his fame

The inspirer, he who helped shape our land

Not a knight,but still grand

He who emptied man glands

All hail Brian, he of the small hands



Author: Michael

Husband, dad,(ex)programmer, comic collector and proud Yorkshireman. I have no idea why im here or why im writing but i rather enjoy it. no great fan of punctuation;

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