King Chivalry

Young King Chivalry! Breaking down doors
to hold them open for all who come,
of thee I sing. This age awaits
thine bold courageous escutcheon.
See it unfurl! A flash of red
- a big bold face upraised
on white! And not a stain
upon its mien. Its other end,
oh my, though. What a sight
King Chivalry stands to receive
all charge: of wrong, discourtesy,
political bent, intolerance, criminal
or heresy. And with a cool, declaiming
boom, disclaiming naught, embracing all
he charges rampant from the room! And makes
his defense in the hall.

It's just a sort of quirk he has. He tends to speak
in triple-outside voice, and so we all can hear!
And nod our heads. His defenses are
uniformly choice. But woebetide the brute
who'd troop in trampling the weak! For young
King Chivalry is here. His mercy 'pon the wretches
is unique.

Peculiar, even - some might quip. Indeed,
the wretches often do. Yet gratefully
- behold their King! Who lays about them
hard of thew and tight of brow and loose
with blows upon those foes who've so hard sucked
as to downtrod the weak and weaker-than!
King Chivalry is quite at ease to make such sport
of miscreant.

Yet never will he deaf his ears, ignore their pleas
so piteous. "Have mercy, sire!" They cry well-smote,
and smitten by the only one so chivalrous.

"Of course!" His grace and honor relent. His visor
raised, regards his vanquished prey: his eyes
are kind, and slightly glazed. His breath
is great and heaving, quite well-spent. (Or
is it show?) "You fellows gave
me some workout!" He nods,
and backing, wheels to go.
That dude knows how
to court and rout.