Knight Times –

In a heavy, getting heavier and heavier wet black cloak, dragging a captured torso from one drawbridge to another, taking stock of thick mossed-up green walls, thin gaps for flying arrows, all that banging on your armour-plate
Your horse does ‘exhausted’ well, let it die, eat the protein, long walk and a lack of thought now there’s no domesticated beast to spur, Knight of the Mediaeval Executive
Hanging armour high-up on oak trees, avoiding short men who shot the King’s Deer and twisted-horned Boar, they have won today, but taller illiterates with private Masses will get and keep them soon
Needing the shortest route misses out the picturesque, and there was a ban on peasants walking beyond their given boundaries, while Bess read Latin and waited for the opportunity, then she tightened it all up again, those Jesuits and their high-ways
Climbing thinning narrow spiral stone stairwells, at the top, a pair of Greyhounds lying at an open fire that went out three months past, and a Wench waits with her coal-scuttle full of timber joints, she gives good flame thrower, and a long naked night ahead
Dispersing agents across your green mumps to collect fortunate tax, your manly adventure up the Amazon needs decipherable ledger work, and that won’t be yours, Knight!, you plan another go at identity – ‘Great Escape Artist in Residence’

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