The Ballad of the Purloined Throne

In days of yore when knights were a bore,
They went questing whenever they could.
High on a hill overlooking the moor
A king's mighty castle stood.

Down in the valley so green and fair
Stood a peasant's rude hut of grass.
The peasant lived happily without a care
No matter what came to pass.

Well, it came to pass that the king went away
With his family by his side,
On a quest that would take them many a day
Leaving the castle unoccupied.

The peasant was curious about what was inside
Of such a grand abode.
So upon that very eventide
Up to the castle he strode.

He discovered a door that wasn't locked tight,
So into the castle he sneaked.
He was able to see by the moon's pale light
Into every room he peeked.

There in the middle of the grandest room
Stood a throne of solid gold.
It was, even there in the dark night's gloom,
A magnificent sight to behold.

He craved such a treasure for his very own,
He'd never again wish for more.
So upon his stout back he hoisted the throne
And staggered out the door.

Out into the night and down the hill
He stumbled with his load,
Until finally after many a bad spill
He reached his humble abode.

Now he realized that his hide would be fried
Upon the king's return.
So he needed a place for his loot to hide
Else his tender behind would burn.

Into the attic, that's clear out of sight.
No one will ever look there.
With ropes and pulleys and all his might
He hoisted his prize with care.

And now, my good friends, let me tell you his fate:
He thought it was safely stashed.
But through the thin beams the heavy weight
Ignominiously crashed.

And folks, I think it's just as well,
Of this I make no bones.
It's plain to see that people who dwell
In grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.