“Ach ’tis proper poo!”
Princess Priscilla proffered,
From her perfect lips
Perplexing Pendragon’s Percival;
Pale paladin –
Prudish and pious,
Profanity had never passed his lips.
Polly proceeded profoundly irritated
At the poly chromatic, pubescent,
Bloom bedecked paladin.
“Ach as if pansies was prizes!
Prancing, pandering, pimple-faced
Pavonian peckish peacock!
Poor indeed is this now depaupered
Damsel in distress
Since yon palfrey ponderously
Plonked down his poo
On our pale pink pinafore
and patent leather pumps!”
Penitent he’d departed from his home, he
Proposed to placate that prima donna
(And perhaps his hunger)
Praising Priscilla’s imagined
Prowess in preparing poutine …
[Having observed her prosperous derriere].
Priscilla punched him in his paunch,
Pummelled him soundly ’bout the head
Then took his palfrey,
Proceeding proudly to her pinnacled palace.
© G.s.k. ‘16