|Master Cerian Cantwr|
Royal court out at Pennsic, they say is sublime.
Folks sit in their finest - for a really long time.
The Midlands observes this in a manner most hearty,
We hang around outside, at our own tailgate party.
Now the grills are all going and the beer's all in place.
Got the dragon in annulo tattooed on my face.
We've got chips, and brats, and beverages of every sort.
The Midlands will party as we're tailgating court.
We carted things over early on Thursday night.
Saw the charcoal lit from orbit off of some satellite.
When the court finally started, we were sitting in style
And hand cranking ice cream out by the mile.
Heard the herald call someone then he shouted "Hoo-bah,"
But it sounded like him saying "Wanna wanna wanna wah."
The king looks like he's wondering how much longer he's got,
If one of us goes up there, we should hand him a brat.
Inside it starts to swelter and there isn't a breeze;
It's humid and it's hotter by a hundred degrees.
The second hour's starting it's enough to make you weep,
And those wooden benches always make your rear end fall asleep.
After 400 hours, it seems court is now done,
And the populace looks pistol whipped, so we had more fun.
We timed it precisely, 'cause we're just out of beer,
And we'll do it even bigger and better next year.
|This page maintained by Cerian Cantwr, firstname.lastname@example.org.|