Arthur and Guinevere
“Excalibur!” cried Arthur as he burped
And downed his seventh flask of beer, “Tell
Me, Guinevere, where you have stashed that sword.”
“I won’t–not ‘til you’ve stopped the constant drinks–
You burp like a pig fart, and you have slurped
The potions I prepared from powdered shells,
Well water and the meadow herbs. Good Lord!
You’ve slobbered on your armor and you stink
Like alleys during festivals when the drunks
Have barfed their dinner, you royal slob–
Those paws of yours–take them off me before
I wallop you–your kisses–like a skunk–
Give back my robe, you thief with ugly gob . . .
Let me have it, you brute, here on the floor.
The Excalibur, Las Vegas