And on with the motley,
we move on to Gottlieb
who's having a chat with Ignatius.
His skin is all blistered,
his nose badly twisted.
I do hope it is not contagious.
And look at his ears!
They look rather queer,
all mangled and gnarled and distorted.
And he hasn't a neck!
Bejasus! Oh feck!
He looks like a girl I once courted!
A girl, may I add,
who resembled a lad,
Her eyes were bright blue and reflectual,
her name it was "Geoffrey",
and sadly she left me,
but it turned out she was a man and I was homosexual.
A questing knight so bold and true
pushing against another man's poo?
I'm a master horseman,
not a pork swordsman.
I wear a leather cuirass,
I drink out of a beer glass.
See me in my suit of armour,
do you think I'm some kind of uphill gardener?
How can anybody espouse to
my being a raving jobby jouster?
But then - when I look down upon my squire
I do feel this strange compelling desire.
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