Grimm Tales Made Gay/How Thomas a Maid from a Dragon Released

Though Philip the Second Of France was reckoned No coward, his breath came short When they told him a dragon As big as a wagon Was waiting below in the court! A dragon so long, and so                       wide, and so fat, That he couldn’t get in at                       the door to chat: The king couldn’t leave him Outside and grieve him, He had to receive him Upon the mat,

The dragon bowed nicely, And very concisely He stated the reason he’d called: He made the disclosure With frigid composure. King Philip was simply appalled! He demanded for eating, a fortnight apart, The monarch’s ten daughters, all dear to his heart. “And now you’ll produce,” he Concluded, “the juicy And succulent Lucie By way of start!”

King Philip was pliant, And far from defiant — “And servile,” no doubt you retort ! — But if you struck a snag on A bottle-green dragon, Who filled up two-thirds of your court, And curled up his tail on And made your piazza your new tin roof, groan under his hoof, Would you threaten and thunder, Or just knuckle under Completely, I wonder, If put to proof?

By way of a truce, he Brought out little Lucie And watched her conducted away, But all of the others Were out with their brothers Thus gaining a little delay, He promised through heralds sent west and east, His crown, and his kingdom, and last, not least, His daughter so sightly To any one knightly Who’d come and politely Wipe out that beast!

For love of the charmer, Arrayed in his armor, Each suitor for glory who yearned, Would gallantly hasten, The dragon to chasten, But none of them ever returned! When the dragon had eaten some sixteen score He hung up this sign on                       his cavern door, Whereat he lay pronely In majesty lonely: There’s Standing Room Only For Three Knights More!

A slim adolescent, His beard only crescent, Rode up at this stage of the game To where the old sinner Lay gorged with his dinner, And breathing out torrents of flame. He gathered a tip from the flaunting sign, And took his position the fourth in line, Until, as foreboded, By food incommoded, The dragon exploded At half-past nine.

The king was delighted At first when he sighted The victor, but then in dismay Regretted his promise. The stripling was Thomas, His Majesty’s valet-de-pied! He asked him at once: “Will you compromise?” But Thomas looked straight in his master’s eyes, And answered severely: “I see your game clearly, And scorn it sincerely. Hand out the prize!”

Not long did he linger Before on the finger Of Lucie he fitted a ring: A month or two later They made him dictator, In place of the elderly king: He was lauded by pulpit, and boomed by press, And no one had ever a chance to guess, Beholding this hero Who ruled like a Nero, His valor was zero, or something less.

The Moral: And still from Nice to Calais Discretion’s the better part of— —valets!