Spork Poetry!

Look what I found!
The Quest for the Holy Spork

The Ballad of the Battle of the Sporks



As I was walking down the road,

I saw some mighty hordes.

I looked at them, they looked at me,

And each of them had swords.



They looked at me with hatred

And they tried to stare me down.

They said that they would kill me,

And they’d raze my lovely town.



Don’t ask me what I did to them

To earn such scrutinies,

But I withdrew quite gallantly

To plead with deities.



I earned no solace from my plea,

While still they onward came,

So then return to town I did

To fetch help for my aim.



My friends and I reached for our shields

And buckled on our swords,

But all were rust and ruined lumps

And onward came the hordes.



As last resort and forlorn hope

And fearful desperation,

We now, at last, reached for our sporks

To procure liberation.



So then we saddled up to fight

But soon came down again,

For all the horses of the town

We found were not quite tame.



We grabbed our reins and saddles too

And to the fields we flew

To saddle up our trusty steeds.

(They’re black and white in hue)



And so we rode to meet the hordes

And test our mighty strength.

The horde just laughed until they wept

And did so at great length.



Then in a rage we spurred our mounts,

And brandished we our sporks.

The mounts just chewed their cuds at us

And looked at us like dorks.



We kicked and prodded with our boots

And hit them in the rump

Until they lowed and tossed their reins.

Now onward we gallump!



The horde, still laughing, laughed again

To see us charge on cows.

We raised our sporks and reached a halt:

We’d not removed the plows.



The horde was falling off their mounts

So comic was our plight.

We left our plows and charged again

Though blinded by the light.



We hadn’t noticed it before

And therefore found it strange,

But we were charging to the rear

And not towards our bane.



We turned around and came to see

The horde was on its knees.

We raised our sporks and drove our steeds

As fast as they could be.



The horde’s mounts now fled in panic

For what did they see now?

But bands of stalwart men with sporks

Who charge them on some cows.



The horde was far from being beat,

For, though their mounts had fled,

They still had swords and shields and spears

And things that make one dead.



The two forces now collided

And we went sword to spork.

Then I was thrown from my heifer

Due to the cattle’s torque.



The dust obscured the battlefield

And hid the dreadful fight.

The battle lasted all that day

And half the following night.



But when the dust cloud lifted

And revealed the battered ground

The bloodied field lay testament

To what there could be found.



The men were strewn all over.

It had looked like none survived.

There came some scattered, painful moans

From bodies on their sides.



Then o’er the yonder hill

Where the sun began to rise,

Came a single bovine rider

With a spork sheathed at his side.