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Baldwin of Erebor
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A Foolish Tale
The King arose one April day
He dressed and dined in the usual way
But shortly he was wishin'
To call for the royal physician.
The doctor came at a medical pace
Not quickly enough to win a race
But if you chose to ask
'Tis unlikely he would have been last.
'Oh Sire,' he said, 'You're right as rain.'
'No,' said the King, 'I feel a pain
A malady unsanctified
Right here in the royal side.'
The doctor pondered, he poked and he peered
He absently nibbled the tip of his beard
And at last prescribed a pill
That he thought would cure the King's ill.
Alas, the remedy failed to work
The King's left knee began to jerk
And his eyebrows, it was seen,
Had turned a shade of green.
It seemed that there was no respite
They sent at last for a Sarabite
Who blessed the King from his nose
To the tip of his royal toes.
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A shudder ran through the royal frame
His eyes shone bright as a candle flame
And then, on the tip of his ear
A gremlin did appear.
'You foolish priest,' the figure cried,
'Your blessing's made the King's inside
A terrible place to live
This slight I'll never forgive.'
Said the Sarabite, 'There's still some hope.'
He popped the thing in an envelope
Which he mailed with commendable speed
To an enemy in Caid.
His Majesty's health returned apace
The Sarabite sang a song of grace
'Thus perish,' he did sing,
'All enemies of the King.'
Let those that have enjoyed my song
Give thanks that though 'twas overlong
Like illness on the mend
It, too, shall come to an end.
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