I wrote this a few years ago, for an English course, written in an imperfect Canterbury Chaucer style. It's a little long due to formatting, but it's one of my favorite works, I encourage you to read the whole thing - I hope you like it


The Jester's Tale


Prologue:

Listeners please do not allow,
My silly apparel to endow,
Your minds with the sense,
That my tale couldn't be intense.
For every syllable I utter,
Could turn your knees to butter!

Take me not as I appear,
I'm a master of invoking fear.
I've made rocks weep and the wind cry!
I've scared the rain right out the sky!
From beneath its shell I drove the snail!
I gave true cause for the Banshee to wail!
You should consider yourselves lucky I dare say,
That you will not hear such a tale today.





Part One:

In a kingdom thats name is lost to us,
On a dreary morning in September,
There was a maid in quite a fuss,
Over the head cook and his temper.
Because her ungainly wielding of a tray,
Upon the floor went wine and bread.
Her fervent apologies held no sway,
The cook's pin lumped up her head.

Away she ran with tears streaming,
To seek counsel from her mother.
Amidst the noise of The Maid's screaming,
Retribution was suggested by the other.
So a plan was devised to retaliate,
Against The pompous twit'.
Until that night she would wait,
And in the meals would go a gift.

Night fell and without being seen,
The maid crept toward the stoves.
After making a stop at the latrine,
Into the cook's soup went her special cloves.
With a snicker and a smile,
She quickly made retreat,
As the soup now filled with tasty bile,
Was made ready for the King and Queen to eat.



Part Two:

With confidence and grace,
The food was brought to seat.
All was situated and in place,
Amen' mumbled as the diners began to eat.
At first everything went well,
The food praised by those present,
Until the Queen began to yell,
"Why has my soup begun to ferment?"

"I can't recall in all my years,
And lately they number many,
Ever being disgusted virtually to tears,
As this soup has so done to me!
Is this meat from cows long deceased?
Are the vegetables from last decade's store?
Bring the perpetrator to my seat,
Immediately so that I may know more!"

The cook was in his kitchens prepping pastries,
When a dozen royal guards strolled in.
They told him of their Queen's misery,
And how her patience was wearing thin.
They escorted him through the Castle,
Making their way to the Dining Room,
Upon his knees went the culinary vassal,
Knowing not of his impending doom.

The Queen stared at him intensely,
Letting him sweat under her gaze.
His fear was shown quite openly,
He silently prayed to see better days.
She began "Tell me are you in the habit,
Of catering to livestock and swine?
You may resemble them, but I doubt it,
So why devastate precious tongues like mine?"

If you have any excuses,
I will give you a chance to speak.
Although I doubt that sufficient ones,
Could come from a mind so weak!'
Indeed the cook did not have a defense.
"Oh glorious ruler of my existence,
Wisest Queen of infinite compassion,
Please accept my deepest repentance,
For a believable excuse I cannot fathom."

The King who said nothing through the ordeal,
Decided his silence was done.
"Dearest Queen, whom else prepared the meal?
Perhaps it's the fault of more than one."

Telling of how they were treacherous villains,
The cook listed all the names that came to mind,
Discrediting those disgraceful hellions,
Saying anything to escape his current bind.


When The Cook was quieted by her Majesty's hand,
Her conclusion was finally communicated.
Since the food was prepared by many I demand,
That the entire staff be executed!'
Her word was law and so it was,
That every servant and helper,
Was rounded up just because,
The Queen and her frightful temper.

Word reached the ear of the maid,
Just before the guards arrived.
Because of her this disaster was made,
If only her revenge had not been contrived!
Even then her cowardice would not allow,
A confession to be uttered,
She stood there upon the gallows,
Ready to watch the innocent suffer.

Be it irony or fate, for I know not which,
The cook and the maid were placed side by side,
As the executioner dropped the switch,
Before they were released and both died,
She uttered a single word to him.
He caught the meaning just before the fall,
Understanding as the world around went dim,
I apologize however, for the word I do not recall.



A Jester's final note:

Anger comes very fast,
Dissipating much slower,
So remember the past is past,
And you should be moving forward.
Grudges never get you far,
So do take after my example,
Hateful acts will never leave a scar,
Through life I will continue to amble.'