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There was, is sayd, in former place Of which ye atlas show nay trace To be a younge man of sorts His face all covered in warts And heighte Palamon for sooth Of which I shall but tell ye truth This Palamon of which I speak Espied a mayden fair and meek Who, had she lived in time long gone Would have been queen of Babylon And so sore is his herte struck (Oh cursed by this mayden's luck) He swore an oath by mighty Zeus That he would sacrifice a goose Or else a duck, if that be cheap To have of this fair maid a peep And time did fly, ere like a dove With a heed for younge love Till now this mayden fair be old And all her shining beauty sold Like dust upon this lane of time Which seems for sooth a major crime But is the way of cruel fate (Or so it doth yseem of late) And one night as if she be mad She wandered in nothing clad And all the town did see her so And also did our bold hero Who had in memory not his oath But as ye olde writer quoth Said "That be not a pretty sight" And scarpered in fear and fright And Zeus looked down upon this earth And by his great and mighty birth He sent a bolt of thunder bright That lighted up this summer night And lo this Palamon it struck Thus oft sweet fate, is sayd... ...be rotten luck |
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 FairgroundTown.co.uk /
Reflectable Ltd
2010
The point is we are all connected... through love... through loneliness... through one lamentable lapse in judgment!
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