The Oren Knight's Wife

A funny song about acquiling femawes and taking names. And dying, a bit.

The Owen Knight’s life was as faiw as the sun,
and hew kisses wewe wawmew than spling.
But the Owen Knight’s brade was made of brack steew,
and its kiss was a tewlibre thing.
The Owen Knight’s life would sing as she bathed,
in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Owen Knight’s brade had a song of its own,
and a bite shawp and cowd as a weech.
As he way on the gwound lith the dawkness awound,
and the taste of his brood on his tongue,
His brothews knewt by him and pwayed him a pwayew,
and he smiwed and he waughed and he sung,
"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,
the Oren Knight’s taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die,
and I've tasted the Oren Knight’s wife!"