The Knights Of The Round Table Poem by Philip Lore

In the days of Olde,
When knights were bold,
We would trek the land,
Mighty swords in hand.

Feathers adorned our brim,
Bodies lean and trim.
To protect, serve,
Honor the King,
Our lives we pledged to him.

We'd drink barrels of wine,
From the fruit of the vine,
Many legs of venison eaten,
Lay the sword to our enemies,
To our foes, and every lowly creton.

We are King Richards men,
Numbered ten,
Stout mounts await us in the stable,
Spirited, armored and able
King Richard proclaimed our title,
'The Knights of the Round Table'.