the dragon queen

once upon a linear time in the mystical middle ages
there lived a knight named Percival who hankered after squires and pages.
he was fond of donning dresses, and eked out his meager wages
by lip-syncing bawdy ballads on medieval wooden stages
while handsome lads in leotards danced lithesome jigs in cages.

the legends of his licentiousness were spread widely throughout the land
while fables of feats of bravery got simply dismissed out of hand.
but it must be said when damsels were distressed he'd always made a stand
and he could spill the goods on the sort of hoods who smuggled contraband.

Percy arrived on market day in the provincial town of Nacken
on a tour of one night stands, not permitting his prowess to slacken,
having joined the Loyal Order for Quelling Beasties in the Bracken,
wanting to see the lay of the land for which he was always packin'.

but things were amiss in the countryside, the townsfolk were all in a flutter.
something was churning the landscape up and turning the farmers to butter.
the town crier took to whimpering and could only manage a stutter.
the village idiot was so disturbed he'd sunk to neighborhood nutter.

well tongues were wagging at the local inn as they quaffed their mead-filled flagons
relating how flames were billowing from the nostrils of ferocious dragons
who were breathing on the windswept peasants, and toasting them in their wagons
a sight more galling than any befalling the vaunted Bilbo Baggins.

it happened that his majesty's entourage ran smack into the scene
when a feisty dragon with rose tinted scales absconded with the queen.
the lizard alit on the shore of a lake to gaze at himself and preen
while the king gave vent to a stream of invective verging on the obscene.

Percival stumbled upon the fray as he sought out his latest trick
and seeing where desire had brought him he was chastened to the quick.
perhaps he should seek a steady companion to trim his unruly wick
for what was the point when he gave it some thought of this nightly errant shtick?

all at once they were caught in a whirlwind, twirling broadcloth, flesh and leather.
without a sound they stopped spinning around and were gently settled on the heather.
well you could have knocked poor Percival down with the tiniest flimsy feather
for the lizard and the monarch had now become one person welded together.

though dizzy at first things could have been worse, the melding did not harm her
and Percival winked his most winning smile, intending not to alarm her.
then an awful clanging clamour arose as he shed his pink-linked armor
and he flew away with his dragon queen, an iridescent charmer.