THE PROVOSTS

[Historical Note: This was written in 1994, and the details of those Provosts named may have changed. Deal.]

(The first ten stanzas of this were written for an A&S competition for limericks at the Second Academie of the Rapier, and were presented in Court by request of Their Majesties, Thorbrandr and Eorran.  Upon completion, His Majesty advised that I was short one verse, at which time I read the 11th verse that I had cunningly already prepared.  It was thus that Lord Duncan’s elevation as the 10th Provost was announced.)

THE PROVOSTS

by Robert Bedingfield

  1. Master Geoffrey with confidence to the list field does amble.

In short work he leaves his foes in a shamble.

Victories he’ll compile,

In fine Elizabethan style.

All praise to our most Ancient Gamble.

 

  1. Giacomo di Vincenti, the most Honorable Lord,

His manners and demeanor are always above board.

Cross not blades with this villain,

Or ‘e’ll commence wit’ the killin’,

And flay you with dagger and sword.

 

  1. Gregoire de Conteville, champion of fence,

With buckler and sword, he hies his foes hence.

From high guard or low,

He lands one mortal blow.

Bet not against him if you value your pence.

 

  1. Sing praises now, in sweet high contralto

For Baron Niall McKennett, summa cum exalto.

His foes he does rout.

(He even fights with a trout!)

Another fine product of Ponte Alto.

 

  1. Lord Roibin, famed of Nottinghill Coill,

Defeats all his enemies with epee and foil.

Retreat or advance,

Not one stands a chance,

‘Cept to spill their blood on the soil.

 

  1. Fair Baroness Ceridwen of Windmasters Hill,

A lady well renowned for her rapier skill.

With draw cut and thrust,

Her foe’s left in the dust.

The crowd, her swashbuckling doth thrill.

 

  1. Padraig Muadhan, with sword florentine,

Fights for honor and glory, for Kingdom and Queen.

In this rhyme iambic,

I praise, not his lambic,

But rather his rapiers keen.

 

  1. Behold Baron Gerlach Weisengrund,

With honors and glories, he has been festooned.

His enemies’ fate sealed,

By the blades he does wield,

Their limbs all about him lay strewn’d.

 

  1. Lord Alan Gravesend fights with style and grace.

Foes tremble when he offers to duel them in case.

No Atlantian dainty,

(Tho’ he’s dressed well, ain’t he?),

His blades dancing at a furious pace.

 

  1. All these wear the gold scarf of rapier Provost.

Of their skill and honor, all Atlantians may boast.

So I say charge your glass,

Let this moment not pass,

And to them let us all drink a toast.

 

  1. At their Majesties’ behest, an elevation ensued.

An honor (but I think the fellow’s been screwed).

And on the morrow, at dawn,

He’ll take all comers on.

Lord Duncan McGregor, newest of our Provost brood.

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