The Ballad of the Old King

In days of old
When nights were cold
And knights were iron men,
A certain old king who had once been a knight
Decided to try it again.

The armor was tight,
It didn't fit right,
It seemed to have shrunk round his belly.
His lance was much heavier than it used to be,
And his muscles felt as firm as warm jelly.

He mounted his horse,
With much huffing, of course,
And rode off with adventure in mind.
Not long in his search, he stopped with a lurch:
Some brigands and varlets he did find.

He shouted "What Ho!"
Towards the villains he did go,
But his bravery was all for naught.
He fell off his horse, in the mud, of course,
And found himself roundly outfought.

All battered and worn
And sadly forlorn,
To his castle he made his retreat.
Amid piles of pillows he slumped on his throne
And contemplated his defeat.

Remember, dear friends,
As this story ends,
This knight thing can really be rough.
For, once a king, always a king,
But once a knight is enough.