A buzz went round the Court as brave Sir Cumfrence hobbled in,

the tournament, it seemed, had turned out bad,

one leg was badly broken, there was blood upon his chin,

his normal smiling face was rather sad.

Sir Ender limped into the room, a frown upon his face,

his left arm dangled loosely by his side,

a patch of hair was missing and his neck was in a brace,

a stomach wound was open, gaping wide.

Sir Prizing came in next - one foot was twisted underneath,

an ear was gone and he could hardly speak,

blood dribbled from his lips because he'd lost a lot of teeth,

a nasty crescent scar upon his cheek.

They carried poor Sir Vivor in - he couldn't even stand,

the blood upon his clothing like red paint,

he held his own intestines in a pile upon his hand,

a seamstress and a serving wench fell faint.

Sir Veilence looked all right - this knight was virile, brave and young,

and many ladies there received his woo,

he tried to speak but couldn't - he had lost his skilful tongue,

and sadly, he had lost his manhood, too.

A fanfare blared, and King Ridiron came in on a bed,

he'd lost one eye, but held the other proud,

his pelvis had been shattered and he'd lost bits from his head,

he cleared his throat and tried to speak out loud:

"My Knights, you've done us proud, the Kingdom owes you quite a debt,

should any of you pass on in the night,

a Royal Funeral for you - the finest you can get,

you put up such a brave and fearsome fight!

"The enemy will still be there, next year will be the same,

we'll fight for God and country - wives and sons,

we'll try each year until we win this Annual Football Game -

Gadzooks - it's hard to beat a bunch of nuns!"

More of my FUNNY POEMS