The White Knight Cavalry

Aloft, sword and shield,
good sirs one and all,
we must thus wield
for yonder clarion call!
Milady needs us,
row by row by row,
mount our steeds thus,
to her fortress, tally ho!
She raises her flag,
that red banner high,
so do not lag,
for our good fortune is nigh.
Round her fort, good men,
be not pale or frail,
but guard her when
a lone beauteous female
is in need of aid,
nor falter when wrongs
are by her made,
but rally in many throngs,
for a female rules,
beauty being truth,
and none but fools
would question her aught, forsooth;
the more she has raised
of her red banners
the more unfazed
we should be in our manners,
for she is a queen
over one and all
and her soul clean,
clear as her ice crystal hall.
So rally hie here!
Protect her pure soul!
And do not fear
her castle’s oubliette hole.
‘Twas not her design,
nor her need, that pit,
so fall in line
to form a wall that is fit
to protect our love,
our lady, devout
as stars above
fixated through years, throughout,
or else as a moat,
a pit of squalor
o’er which no boat
might ford fast to befall her.
A White Knight’s duty
is never done, quite—
Lo! Tis beauty!
Let us gallop! Let us fight!

Happy Hollow Road (My Old KY Home Parody)

O, the moonshine’s bright
over Happy Hollow Road,
Tis nighttime,
the locals are drunk.
Well, the locals fight
cuz their guts squirm like a toad
while bourbon makes them sick
like a skunk.

Sleep no more, dear neighbor,
oh sleep no more tonight.
We throw down loud
for Happy Hollow Road,
for Happy Hollow Road,
we oft fight.

Well, the drunk folks hurl
all over the outhouse door.
They’re angry, all
squirrelly and crazed.
Bend over for moontide
and fall flopping on the floor,
piss where they all may lay,
drunk and dazed.

Put Out To Pasture

The two ranchers looked down from their horses at the body, its rotund girth expanding laboriously at the ribs.

“That old-timer’s not gonna’ make it,” one rancher said, spitting his chewing tobacco out.  He tilted his cowboy hat back.  It was star-spangled blue.  “Oughtta’ we get him help, ya’ reckon?”

“Naw,” said the other rancher.  His hat was red-and-white striped.  “Wouldn’t help the other old-timers none neither.  Wouldn’t help him none.”

“It might help,” the star-spangled rancher said.  “If we invested in that there vaccine, maybe.”

“Maybe,” the red-and-white rancher said.  “Maybe not.”  He squinted at the sun as it lowered upon the pasture.  “Not cost-effective, really.  What we need is that there herd immunity.  Let the old, sick ones croak and that there virus can’t do nothin’ but die out, too.”

The blue-spangled one scratched his chin.  “Ain’t that like what ‘em Nazis did?  I mean, we ain’t Nazis.  But it just seems a little heartless, is all.”

“It’s all natural,” said the red-and-white striped rancher.  “We’re just lettin’ it happen.  Passive like.  We can’t afford it in this business to think with the heart.  He would of died anyhow.  He ain’t profitable, neither.  He ain’t producin’ like he used to, bein’ past his prime.  And each old one’s a huge investment sink for the ranch.  Bet he wouldn’t even make good dogfood no more, bein’ what he is.”

The star-spangled rancher nodded.  “Yer right, I suppose.  Nobody else seems to be carin’ none about it.  Except that ol’ Jap farmer down the road.  And he ain’t had nearly so many dead as we have.  He said we oughtta’ try ‘em at least.  Couldn’t hurt none.”

The red-and-white striped rancher scowled in some aimless direction, thinking.  Or resenting.  “I’m tellin’ you it ain’t cost-effective, neither, to put it on ‘em.”  He snorted angrily; more loudly than his horse.  “That Jap just lyin’ ‘bout it workin’, is all.  Don’t be naive.  How can they eat and grow big with ‘em things coverin’ their snouts?  You tell me that!”

The star-spangled rancher furrowed his brow, and scratched his chin.  “We could have ‘em graze at a distance from each other.  And keep ‘em in different stables.  Half and half, maybe, and all apart from one another.  Less likely to spread.”

The body laying on the pasture trembled and wheezed.

The red-and-white rancher shook his head ruefully.  “Just let it ‘appen.  Herd immunity, I’m tellin’ ya.  It’s the way to go!”

The old man wheezed and coughed upon the ground, gasping for air in the hot American evening.  The two ranchers pulled their bandanas up over their mouths.

“Let’s just go round up the others,” the red-and-white rancher said, sneering.  He rode off at once.

Glancing over his shoulder as he turned his mount, the star-spangled rancher paused a moment, considering the old man dying at his feet.

“Will make good fertilizer for the pasture, I suppose.”

He then bid his horse to a gallop, helping his partner round up the rest of the citizenry into the barn, lest the like-minded wolves get them in the coming night.

“Y’all better be more productive come tomorrow,” the ranchers said, “or y’all will all be put out to pasture!”

The citizenry went in together as one, whether they wanted to or not.