In a town once named GoldenCorn,
In this dear land, where there were born,
Such maidens fair and knights of bold,
They wore long hair in plaits of gold.
Dragons roamed this fairyland
Of houses made of course fine sand,
As wizards wove their magic spells
And elves wore pointed hats with bells.
Sir Cream-Clot was the largest knight,
His armour bright was much too tight,
Sat on his horse; its legs were bent,
Back was arched; its breath was spent.
Spock the dragon with breath of flame,
Crash! Bang! Into the town he came,
Poor old Sir Cream-Clot , he went quite pale,
Is this the end of his life’s tale?
A brave young knight rode up just then
“Don’t worry folks, it’s me Sir Ken,”
Then with a grin, he drew his sword,
Tied to his waist by a thin cord.
Sir Ken rode forth and slew old Spock
And then the crowds all ran amok
Cheering the hero, by all rights!
Whilst Sir Cream-Clot put on clean tights.