Sardine
One of Freddy's beloved
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2004
- Messages
- 396
Just messing around really.
The Firbolg and The Lurikeen
The Firbolg drank from his mug in the tavern,
The Lurikeen stood by his leg at his side,
And the small Lurikeen, being the colour auburn,
Displayed his reddish colour with upmost pride.
‘Don’t you ever get fed up of being so small?’
Asked the Firbolg, slamming down the huge mug.
‘I’d rather look like this, than be stupidly tall.’
Answered the brave Lurikeen, looking so smug.
‘Do you think being miniscule is such a problem?’
‘And having the dexterity of a fly?’
‘After all I think I scrub up rather handsome,’
‘I am something a woman cannot deny.’
‘I can weave through small gaps into many spaces,’
‘And not being much taller than a knick-knack.’
‘Where I’ve been I hardly ever leave such traces.’
‘So I ask you brainless Bolg, please take that back.’
‘Never in my life will I retract such a thing!’
Said the Firbolg letting out a great laugh.
‘Would you not rather have the strength of a Viking?’
‘Who’d never get lost down the plug of a bath.’
‘I may not be speedy, but I have brute force,’
‘And women love me with my muscles all tense.’
‘So do I think being small is a joke? Of course!’
‘Oh Lurikeen, you never did make much sense.’
‘At least I don’t have your long and gigantic nose’
‘Getting in the way of everyone I meet.’
‘That is something to be thankful for I suppose,’
‘Or your rotten wart infected hairy feet.’
‘When was the last time you looked into the mirror?’
‘Cause in your beard is a week old Brussels sprout.’
‘Honestly, I have no idea why I bother!’
Replied the flustered Lurikeen with a shout.
The Firbolg moved his hand next to the small brat,
And without hesitation flicked him away.
‘You’re worse than a mid summers irritating gnat!’
He cried to the Lurikeen in pure dismay.
The Lurikeen returned, said something atrocious.
The words which left his mouth I cannot repeat.
That flight in the air must have turned his brain to mush:
It was time that he had to admit defeat.
Angered, the Firbolg got up out of his seat,
And ironically after all his boasting,
The Lurikeen wasn’t able to dodge his feet.
And Firbie the Bolg had proved that he was king
By squashing Eric, the poor auburn Lurikeen.
The force of the stamp made craters in the earth,
They quickly filled up with Eric’s blood: it was green.
At least he had a quick death for all it’s worth.
The Firbolg and The Lurikeen
The Firbolg drank from his mug in the tavern,
The Lurikeen stood by his leg at his side,
And the small Lurikeen, being the colour auburn,
Displayed his reddish colour with upmost pride.
‘Don’t you ever get fed up of being so small?’
Asked the Firbolg, slamming down the huge mug.
‘I’d rather look like this, than be stupidly tall.’
Answered the brave Lurikeen, looking so smug.
‘Do you think being miniscule is such a problem?’
‘And having the dexterity of a fly?’
‘After all I think I scrub up rather handsome,’
‘I am something a woman cannot deny.’
‘I can weave through small gaps into many spaces,’
‘And not being much taller than a knick-knack.’
‘Where I’ve been I hardly ever leave such traces.’
‘So I ask you brainless Bolg, please take that back.’
‘Never in my life will I retract such a thing!’
Said the Firbolg letting out a great laugh.
‘Would you not rather have the strength of a Viking?’
‘Who’d never get lost down the plug of a bath.’
‘I may not be speedy, but I have brute force,’
‘And women love me with my muscles all tense.’
‘So do I think being small is a joke? Of course!’
‘Oh Lurikeen, you never did make much sense.’
‘At least I don’t have your long and gigantic nose’
‘Getting in the way of everyone I meet.’
‘That is something to be thankful for I suppose,’
‘Or your rotten wart infected hairy feet.’
‘When was the last time you looked into the mirror?’
‘Cause in your beard is a week old Brussels sprout.’
‘Honestly, I have no idea why I bother!’
Replied the flustered Lurikeen with a shout.
The Firbolg moved his hand next to the small brat,
And without hesitation flicked him away.
‘You’re worse than a mid summers irritating gnat!’
He cried to the Lurikeen in pure dismay.
The Lurikeen returned, said something atrocious.
The words which left his mouth I cannot repeat.
That flight in the air must have turned his brain to mush:
It was time that he had to admit defeat.
Angered, the Firbolg got up out of his seat,
And ironically after all his boasting,
The Lurikeen wasn’t able to dodge his feet.
And Firbie the Bolg had proved that he was king
By squashing Eric, the poor auburn Lurikeen.
The force of the stamp made craters in the earth,
They quickly filled up with Eric’s blood: it was green.
At least he had a quick death for all it’s worth.
