How Thomas A Maid From A Dragon Released

Though Philip the Second     Of France was reckoned     No coward, his breath came short     When they told him a dragon     As big as a wagon     Was waiting below in the court!     A dragon so long, and so wide, and so fat,     That he couldn't get in at the door to chat:     The king couldn't leave him     Outside and grieve him,     He had to receive him     Upon the mat,     The dragon bowed nicely,     And very concisely     He stated the reason he'd called:     He made the disclosure     With frigid composure.     King Philip was simply appalled!     He demanded for eating, a fortnight apart,     The monarch's ten daughters, all dear to his heart.     "And now you'll produce," he     Concluded, "the juicy     And succulent Lucie     By way of start!"     King Philip was pliant,     And far from defiant     --"And servile," no doubt you retort!--     But if you struck a snag on     A bottle-green dragon,     Who filled up two-thirds of your court,     And curled up his tail on your new tin roof,     And made your piazza groan under his hoof,     Would you threaten and thunder,     Or just knuckle under     Completely, I wonder,     If put to proof?     By way of a truce, he     Brought out little Lucie     And watched her conducted away,     But all of the others     Were out with their brothers!     Thus gaining a little delay,     He promised through heralds sent west and east,     His crown, and his kingdom, and last, not least,     His daughter so sightly     To any one knightly     Who'd come and politely     Wipe out that beast!     For love of the charmer,     Arrayed in his armor,     Each suitor for glory who yearned,     Would gallantly hasten,     The dragon to chasten,     But none of them ever returned!     When the dragon had eaten some sixteen score     He hung up this sign on his cavern door,     Whereat he lay pronely     In majesty lonely:     +------------------------------+     There's Standing Room Only     For Three Knights More!     +------------------------------+     A slim adolescent,     His beard only crescent,     Rode up at this stage of the game     To where the old sinner     Lay gorged with his dinner,     And breathing out torrents of flame.     He gathered a tip from the flaunting sign,     And took his position the fourth in line,     Until, as foreboded,     By food incommoded,     The dragon exploded     At half-past nine.     The king was delighted     At first when he sighted     The victor, but then in dismay     Regretted his promise.     The stripling was Thomas,     His Majesty's valet-de-pied!     He asked him at once: "Will you compromise?"     But Thomas looked straight in his master's eyes,     And answered severely:     "I see your game clearly,     And scorn it sincerely.     Hand out the prize!"     Not long did he linger     Before on the finger     Of Lucie he fitted a ring:     A month or two later     They made him dictator,     In place of the elderly king:     He was lauded by pulpit, and boomed by press,     And no one had ever a chance to guess,     Beholding this hero     Who ruled like a Nero,     His valor was zero,     Or something less.     The Moral: And still from Nice to Calais     Discretion's the better part of--     --valets!