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
A
Afterwards 