Poetic Whimsicality

A standalone poem -- not part of the For Series.

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The Tale of the Gravy King

Once upon a time there lived a King

Who so strongly swore by gravy

That with it was made his crown and throne

And his Army and his Navy.

He ordered gravy currency made

To replace the kingdom's money

And found himself a gravy wife

To keep him company.

He built a new capital in his name --

All made of gravy, wall to wall --

And at its centre, was his gravy palace

With gravy towers tall.

Deep within that gravy palace,

Guarded by forty gravy men,

Lay the King's gravy bedroom,

Gravy bath and gravy kitchen.

Daily from there the King emerged

Dressed in gravy head to heels

And boarded his gravy carriage, that

Had gravy flag and wheels.

He rode the carriage to gravy court

To meet his gravy minister,

His gravy commander-in-chief,

Gravy priest and gravy jester.

The King was so in love with gravy

That one could be put to death

If one decried gravy in his deeds,

His words or even his breath.

It so happened one morning

That a King of another nation

Visiting our Gravy King,

Called to question his obsession.

At once the Gravy King stood tall

And drew his gravy scimitar

And thundered, "In the name of gravy,

'Gainst thee I declare war!"

The visiting Royal, bound by honour,

Accepted the invitation.

When he had left, patriotic spirit

Gripped the gravy nation:

All the ridicule that they faced

For their King's peculiar ways

Would give way, in case of victory,

To glory and high praise!

So the gravy soldiers drilled all day

And the forges growled all night,

Making gravy swords and cannonballs

And gravy armour bright.

When the battle day came, however,

The gravy swords and shields

Proved no match for weapons forged

Of iron, bronze and steel.

But the Gravy King rallied his troops

And denied them retreat.

The gravy soldiers fell one by one

In an inglorious defeat.

Grievously wounded, the King was carried

To the camps and given care,

But soon the gravy healers

Declared him beyond repair.

With weakened words, the Gravy King

Of the proud gravy nation

Requested that the gravy priest

Come in to hear Confession.

The gravy priest was fetched, and at

The Gravy King's behest,

All but the priest left him, after

Paying their respects.

Then, with his dying breath, the King,

In a voice tired and small,

Made his last Confession: "Father,

I never liked gravy at all!"

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