Sir 'enry Shay, the noble knight, Bestride his charger Bess, Befell upon a sadly sight ~ A damsel in distress. Despairing in the forest she Morosely wept and sobbed; Tied tethered to a chestnut tree As she was being robbed. Sir 'enry drew his tempered blade And fought off robbers four. Swish-swashing, buckling, till he laid Them hapless on the floor. "My hero" then my lady cried "I'll marry you this day! And be your wife, your faithful bride To honour and obey". But when she smiled, her eyes aglow, He found she had no teeth; As naught dwelt in the upper row And not-a-one beneath. There again her nose was pointed, A moustache grew within; M'lady's jowl had been disjointed About her double chin. Sir 'enry then bethought his lot And sparked a canny plan. Regardful of Sir Lancelot Who shrewdly cut and ran. The gallant knight would flee the glen And beat a fleet retreat; The better part of valour, then, Was oh to be discreet. Sir 'enry deemed he should be gone Upon his trusty steed. He coaxed a nudge that spurred her on And galloped off at speed. The moral of the story, where Accordance looms a must, When e'er you save a damsel fair Pray leave her bound and trussed.