It was a dark and stormy knight
With whom I had to fight,
Me a damsel, whose chastity belt was on too tight.
His instrument was grand
When he held it in his hand
It wasn’t what I planned
As he sang to me all the bloody night.

When I awoke, t’was late of morn
And my Stormy knight had gorn
Red skies the sailors warn
And soon did come the rain
Which flattened all the grain
And washed my CB key right down the bloody drain.
Yawn, Yawn.

There’s a moral in this tale
Which howls in like a gale
Blows the skin until it’s pale
And it’s plain and obvious for all to see
If you lock your own CB
Make sure you have a second key
Don't matter if it's Chubb, mortice or Yale.

Angharad.