The Canterbury Tales – A Retelling

THE FIRST FIT

Listen carefully, please, to meAnd I will tell the companyA fu

y little story.At some time in historyThere was a knight and gentGood at battle and at tournament.What was his name?Sir Thopas.He lived in a far, no, distant countryNot very near the sea.He dwelled in a city called HamelinFamous for its porcelain.His father was a rich man, and grand.In fact he ruled the entire land.What was his name?I don’t know.Now Sir Thopas was a brave knight.His hair was black, his face was bright.His lips were red as a carnation.But then so was his complexion.I could have said, red as a rose,But I will confine that to his nose.How big was his nose?Enormous.His hair was as yellow as mustard paste,And he wore it right down to his waist.His shoes were from the VendômeAnd his clothes were made in Rome.They were so expensiveThat his father looked pensive.How much did they cost?Thousands.He could hunt for wild rabbitAnd had acquired the habitOf hawking for game.He could wrestle and tameThe most ferocious ox.He could whip the bollocksOff any contestant.He was no maiden aunt.There were many young virginsHappy to slake his urgingsWhen they should have been asleep.But he did not so much as peepAt them. He was chaste as a lilyAnd stayed so willy-nilly.So it befell that on one morningJust as the light was dawningSir Thopas rode out on his steedIn hope of doing daring deeds.He held his lancet like a lord,And by his side there hung a sword.He made his way through forests darkWhere wolves howl and wild dogs bark.He himself was after game,Which once more I rhyme with tame.But listen while I tell you moreOf how Sir Thopas almost sworeWith vexation.Around him sprang weeds of every sort,The flea-bane and the meadow-wort.Here were the rose and primrose pale,And nutmeg seeds to put in aleWhether it be fresh or staleOr only good as slops in pail.The birds were singing sweetly enough,Among the nightingales a chough.Was that a chaffinch on the wing,Or was it a dove just chattering?He heard a swallow sing on high,And then a parrot perched near by.What a lot of noise!And when he heard the birdies singHe was filled with love longing.He spurred on his horseOver briar and gorseUntil the beast was sweating.It looked like it had been ruttingWith a mare.Thopas himself was exhausted.He got down from his quadrupedAnd lay stretched on the ground.The horse was free at one bound.It wriggled its arseAnd chewed on the grass.Fodder was solace.‘Woe is me,’ Thopas lamented,‘Why am I so dementedFor love? I dreamed last nightThat I had caught a brightElf-queen under the sheets.What sexual featsI accomplished!‘If my dreams could come trueWhat deeds would I do.I really need a fairy queen,No mortal girl is worth a bean.All other women I forsake,A fairy girl is all I’ll takeIn country or in town.’Then up on to his steedHe jumped, in needOf action with a fairy queen.He rode along each hill and daleLooking for that certain female.Then quite by chance he foundA secret spot of magic ground,The kingdom of the fairies.In truth it was a little scaryAnd wild. And desolate.He was not surprised to see a giantWhose name was Oliphiant.He had a maceWhich he aimed at the faceOf Thopas, saying, ‘Get outOr I will give your horse a clout.The queen of fairyLives in this aeryAbode. It is not for you.Your horse is unwelcome, too.’Sir Thopas turned red as rhubarb pieAnd said in angry voice ‘I defyYou, Oliphiant, and I swearTo aim my lance here whereIt hurts. Come out at break of dayAnd I will show you my wayOf dealing with giants.’It was a good show of defiance.Then Thopas rode away quite fastAs Oliphiant prepared to castStones at him from a leather sling.Yet our fair knight had cause to singWhen all the missiles missed their aimAnd were not fit to kill or maimThe valiant warrior.He was none the sorrier.