BUBBA'S TAIL

In parchments torn and memories old
Lie tales of knights and heroes bold,
Of treasures deep in dragon hordes,
Of battles great with flashing swords,
But none so strange as those now told
Of one with wings, and fur of gold;
Who from the lands of heathen sway
Makes home in Wyewood to this day.

So hearken ye with ears to hear
Lest timid hearts be turned toward fear,
For though 'tis not without its sins,
It is with love our tale begins...

No truer love could surer be
Than beat within that hamster she,
Who in each evening quiet sat,
Her company a noble bat.
Amid the elderberry vine
They consummated love divine;
Where life passed on its blessed cup
For soon 'twas born a furry pup.
Of hamster build his form was true,
Yet with two wings of darkened hue.

And though should end our story well,
Our Lord decreed there's more to tell.
For good Sir Richard, king to thee,
He sent to sail across the sea,
To wrest from hands of Saracen
The lands once walked by holy men.

Now, though the cause divine and true,
War has its debt and calls it due,
For when heralds the battle horn
Many are the orphans born.
And so it was this family three -
One left alive and he, barely;
Caught in the midst of horse and mail
That swept across their tiny dale.
And there beneath the battle cry
The tiny hamster silent lie.

And so our tale could once more end
If not for one, another friend.
For soon the din of war had passed,
Crusaders stood victors at last,
Then walking back across the sand
Came Gordon Redthorn, squire of Brand.

He stopped and knelt for he had seen
A fluttering amongst the green
And reaching in to vine and grass,
Pulled forth the hamster with a gasp!
Relieved that he was not yet dead,
He swore an oath: "By Richard's head,
The cost of war has been too high!
I shall not let another die!"

And so the babe he gathered in,
And stroked the hamster 'neath the chin.
So From that day he nursed him well
Through desert heat and ocean swell;
And kept him safe for journey's home
To fair green Wyewood's leafy dome.