AN AUTUMN FEAST

Upon a cold and wintry day, Although twas but the month of May, Fair lady took herself to town To buy a wondrous evening gown. One hundred candles soon were lit As in the hall they all did sit. Fine gowns aplenty there were found, Tho never better, Ill be bound Than worn by fairest Guinevere. A modern tale, I warn you here, Tis not of knights and tables round, But of a deed that will astound. Twenty-four they sat at table, Eating all that they were able, Wines red and white were all consumed Till right well drunk can be presumed. Then for the toast the host stood up, Pray silent be, Ill hurry up, Theres one you know and love full well, Whose name Im sure I neednt tell. Yes, Guinevere, you must stand tall And sing a song for one and all. Your voice so fine we love to hear, Your smile so sweet doth bring us cheer. So lady fair, our Guinevere, Stood up to sing a song so dear To all the hearts of those around This table seated; alas, they found Her voice did croak, her skin turned green, She shrank and shrank and turned quite mean. She glared upon them all at once; With baleful eyes she made to pounce On one poor hapless drunken fool Whose chair had turned into a stool, With spots of white upon the red And stalks of green upon his head. A toad he had become and stayed While all the rest knelt down and prayed That Guinevere and her new prince Would leave them be to prate and mince About the woes of worldly things, About the price our sins will bring When too much drink and too much food Turns fair to foul and spoils the mood. Inge Meldgaard 2011