Another myth is in my sights,
A well known tale of old.

I feel it’s proper and so right
The truth should now be told.

When bouncing on our parents’ knees,
As teeny little chaps,
The tales they told with so much ease,
Were actually pure crap.

I’m talking about dear Miss Hood,
The one they all called Red.
Who had a Granny in the wood,
Who ended up all dead!

A wolf, we know now, did this deed -
He gobbled up old Gran.
And then he tried on Red to feed,
But she buggered off and ran.

A brave chap with a big chopper,
Cut short wolfie’s life.
One whack and he came a cropper,
And faced the skinner’s knife.

The tale ends there, I’m sad to say,
It really is a shame.
For had they told the proper way,
T’would be Red who’d have the fame.

Her first name really wasn’t Red,
That was just her coat.
But when one gets things in one’s head
One learns them off by rote.

Her mother always called her ‘Hun’,
And Dad, ‘His little dear.’
But when all things were said and done
The truth you’d rather hear.

For Robyn was this lass’s name,
And I’m sure you will agree,
It really is an awful shame,
How they’ve bent history.

Old clever clogs, on reading this,
Will instantly discover,
This tale of young Robyn - Miss,
The truth I now uncover.

In actual fact, it was this maid
Who severed Wolfie’s head.
And then into the earth she laid,
The remains of Granny - dead.

The wood was Sherwood Forest, so,
The penny’s dropped for sure.
A certain Sheriff was her foe,
An outlaw he did view her.

Now deep in Sherwood, she would found,
A whole new type of group.
For lots of girls from all around,
From their homes did troop.

There was Much, the miller’s girl,
And Sister Tuck the Nun.
And Scarlet Wills, with hair that curled,
And Little Joan, who’s fun.

These girls were brave and full of grit,
The robbed the very rich.
They gave the sheriff loads of shit,
And left their victims in a ditch.

They all wore green, as you should know,
Common sense they never lacked,
But camouflage and lying low.
Not for fashion, that’s a fact.

Handy with a bow and arrow,
And crafty with a knife.
They didn’t want the straight and narrow,
To end up as someone’s wife!

Now King then was Dick Lionheart,
But he wasn’t often home.
He spent more time in foreign parts,
Battling on behalf of Rome.

Another myth I shall explode,
While I am about it,
For wenches old Dick never rode,
But boys he always fancied.

While he was off fighting Islam,
Prince John took his chance,
Introducing Max the taxman,
He took a very nasty stance.

Now of all this Robyn had no ken,
She didn’t even care.
For she was hassling the sheriff’s men,
And booty with the poor did share.

The nasty sheriff didn’t know
That Robyn wasn’t male.
He posted a reward although,
A hero she was hailed.

It was just then that she met a lass,
Called Marion the meek,
With long blonde hair in wavy mass,
Plus pink and pretty cheek.

Now Robyn was a tough young bint,
With muscles and big thighs,
Her clear blue eyes had steely glint,
That caused maid Marion to sigh.

In those old days, when men were men,
And women were just playthings,
Girls had babies from age of ten,
There was no way to stop things.

Marion and Rob set up home,
Deep in Sherwood’s forest,
Much to disgust the priests of Rome,
Whom boys, they liked the best.

Now Gay old Dick, the absent King,
Returned from the crusades.
He found John was interfering
With England’s poor old maids.

One day while travelling the land,
He was caught out in a squall.
He found shelter quite close at hand,
In Robyn’s tidy little hall.

Dick was shocked to find maidens fair,
Living as man and wife,
He was just the same as they were,
And had been all his life.

When King Dick heard of all their pranks,
Against the Sheriff crafty.
He pardoned them up several ranks,
And they lived happy ever afty!

..….Oh yeah?

The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.

SIR GUY THE GAY

In days of old, when knights were bold,
In a kingdom, far, far away.
There lived a knight with a heart of gold,
Who, I have to say, was gay.

The Knight was known by all as Guy,
And big and strong was he,
Bronzed and broad, over six feet high,
He was a fine sight to see.

Now Guy was sensitive and smart,
As well as strong and brave,
He knew he always looked the part,
So to maidens he would wave.

But deep inside his lonely soul,
He knew he wasn’t straight,
For in his heart was an empty hole,
As he sought to find a mate.

Now countless maidens threw their hearts,
Figuratively at his feet.
He always smiled. Like Cupid’s darts,
Their eyes, he couldn’t meet.

One day he rode away from home,
And left them all behind.
Destined the wider world to roam,
His one true love to find.

His secret he began to hate,
Deep down, it wasn’t right,
He chose to become celibate
Then men he needn’t fight.

Thus, as he wandered far and wide,
He fought for many kings.
Nasty villains at his hand died,
Plus dragons and such things.

Now at this time, in a small vale,
A dragon did reside.
His very presence made men wail,
As oft they tried to hide.

They made a deal with this foul beast,
To keep them safe and sound,
Once a year they served him a feast
Of virgin, fair and round!

But as time passed, the wily girls-
Their hymens they did tear,
So in the end there wasn’t one
Who qualified as fair.

The mob seized the miller’s girl,
And tied her to the pole,
But Dragon took one sniff at her,
And knew she wasn’t whole.

The dragon gave a fearful moan,
And set off for the town,
Now pissed this dragon was, I own,
As he could burn it down.

So in a thrice, they made a plan,
And went to see the baker
His child was actually a man,
Into a girl they’d make 'her'.

Young Tuck was fair, and slight and small,
A pretty youth was he.
He’d never had a girl at all,
He was a virgin, you see!

They stripped his clothes right off his back,
And dressed him as a bint.
But swelling breasts they saw him lack,
They stuffed his bra with lint.

With a golden dress and long fair hair,
They led him down the street.
They brought him to the dragon’s lair,
And buggered off, toute suite.

The dragon sniffed the helpless lad,
Tied firmly to the stake,
And couldn’t smell that he’d been had,
That the lass was really fake.

I have to say he looked the part,
So terrified was he,
His new shape was a work of art,
He looked just like a ‘she’.

Beast licked his lips, and drooled a lot,
And prepared to take a bite
Of poor young Tuck’s pert little bot.
Tuck screamed with all his might!

Now as it happened, just right then,
A rider happened by,
‘twas Guy the gay, near dragon’s den,
Who heard the scream so nigh.

He rode up on his large white mare,
With pointy lance and axe,
He only saw a maid so fair,
In threat of dragon’s snack.

The fight was long and very fierce,
The man went on his back.
He struck upwards, the heart to pierce;
He had a certain knack.

The sword went in the dragon’s heart,
It let out a dreadful cry,
And broke wind with a mighty fart,
Then it collapsed to die.

The Knight unto his feet did make,
And looked towards the maid,
Still even he could see no fake,
So no interest in her, he paid.

Now young Tuck was deeply troubled,
As he watched this knight,
For his troubles were now doubled,
Because his head was light.

The man so tall, and brave and strong,
Sent Tuck's senses whirring.
He felt some stuff he feared was wrong,
As down-below was stirring.

With one big blow, the cords were cut,
And Tuck was free again,
With trembling voice he thanked the man,
Whose face grimaced with pain.

With tender touch, Tuck bound his cuts,
And soothed his fevered brow,
And at that point Tuck spilled his guts
So the truth the knight knew now.

As Tuck’s blue eyes were downward cast,
In shame and sinful thought,
Sir Guy knew love at long, long last,
A mate he’d so long sought.

With trembling hand, he stroked Tuck’s hair
And raised his chin to see
That all he felt was reflected there,
And more besides so free.

The pair rode off from that dark place,
Not back towards the town,
As there no future they could face
With locals who would frown.

They found a place some way away
And settled there a while
A herbalist came past one day,
And made the couple smile.

For he prescribed some ancient mix,
That Tuck took twice a day.
The curse of being butch was fixed
And there’s not much more to say.

They set up home near friendly folk,
And no one ever guessed
That Lady Trudy was a bloke,
She was always so well dressed.

The couple married, settled down,
And were much loved, I’m told.
They so impressed the local town,
They loved the knight, so bold.

One day after a travelling fair
Moved off for pastures new,
The gypsies left a pretty pair
Of babes, not one but two!

Now knowing that the lady fair
Had never had a child,
They thought she might adopt the pair
As her manner was so mild.

Trudy cried with much emotion,
Her joy was now complete,
A husband, home and now children
For a lad, it was some feat.

And here I end this happy tale,
Of love and age old sin.
It matters not if you be male,
But whether you fit right in!