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~~ ~~ Lord British's Tyrannical Adventure ~~ ~~by Anon *
~Lord British was a monarch who was haughty and vain ~And especially proud of his despotic reign. ~But conceit of this sort isn't proper at all ~And soon the old tyrant was doomed for a fall. ~One day as he viewed his subjects from on high, ~A voluptuous young wench caught his tired old eye.*
~Bending over to see, that oversexed goat ~Let his gold crown slip and fall into the moat. ~With a cry of sheer terror he jumped like a fool, ~he rushed to his ditch (it reeked like a cesspool).*
~He leaped in kersplash! and sank like a stone. ~(Everyone hoped for a new heir to the throne.) ~But alas he came up and staggered from the sewer, ~his robes smelled of offal, his breath like manure.*
~«Why did I do that? What possessed me today? ~I'm as daft as old Iolo, and now I smell like Dupre.» ~«And if anyone sees me, oh what a disgrace, ~I had better leave if I want to save face!»
~But a crowd had assembled and stared, amazed, ~the sight confused them, the stench left them dazed. ~Then with a shriek a young boy began to laugh, ~giggling and pointing at the king's fecal bath.*
~Becoming enraged, the monarch suddenly turned wild, ~He looked like he wanted to strangle the child! ~His hand turned to fist, he struck lightning fast, ~but the old poop missed, and fell on his ass.
~Not holding back, the crowd soon roared, ~The laughter was deafening. It grew till it soared. ~But the king found no humor and called for his men. ~The arrival of the guard quickly silenced the din.*
~«For all of you who found humor in my sorrow and misfortune ~Will soon find the rack! And pain! And contortion! ~Then I will cackle as you stew and boil, ~in a pot full of lard and bubbling oil.*
~And for those who survive this (they'd liefer be dead), ~I'll pluck out their eyes, and chop off their head! ~Finally in the wind their bodies will swing, ~Then you fools will be sorry for laughing at this king!»*
~Then all were led away at the point of a sword, ~While old Lord Brit took a dip in a ford. ~Then he laughed at the cries that screamed through the night, ~He chuckled at their anguish, he cackled at their plight.*
~In Britannia today no one openly tells this tale, ~lest they find themselves thrown in tyrant's darkest jail. ~But here in our new homeland this song can be sung, ~the tale of how British acquired his faint smell of dung.