Callipygian Queen
A poem. Humor. NSFW.
callipygian, adjective : having shapely buttocks
— Merriam-Webster
Noble sirs of higher birth,
Fairest maidens on the Earth,
Valiant knight and lowly serf,
Peasant farmers who till turf,
Hear this jester’s bawdy tale,
The one who makes you laugh and wail.
Through royal courts, majestic halls,
Wearing tights, juggling my balls,
Such an awesome sight I spied,
The regal hide, so round and wide.
One glance I’d chance for a dance,
And wind up staring down a lance.
Locked in the dark, by chains beset,
Despite one’s ills, without regret.
Vision of love my eyes have seen,
Divine grace, my Callipygian Queen.
When first beheld that finest rump,
My heart did thump, hips wished to hump.
I longed to be my sov’reign’s slave,
Submissive in her bedroom games.
Apprehensive waiting for our fling,
Still that one thing, there was the king!
Our throne room gaze secretly made,
Plans dreamt up, our thoughts depraved.
She met my eyes, I read her mind.
In the dead of night, I felt alive.
Into their room, I found my prey
And raised my flask without delay.
Into his ear, I did deliver
Half an ounce of quicksilver.
My rival gone, the death was clean.
Now you’re mine, Callipygian Queen.
I climbed in bed beside the dead.
The Queen woke up, her face blood red.
I spoke about the love we’d make,
But it was all one big mistake.
In a rage, she hollered “GUARDS!”
All came running ‘cross the yards.
Into the room, with weapons drawn,
Sleepwalking, I feigned a yawn.
They tried to rouse his Majesty,
Soon to discover the tragedy.
“Don’t do that, you will disturb him,
Wake him now, and you’ll perturb him.”
It was too late, the king was dead,
“Grab the traitor” is all they said.
They dragged me from the murder scene,
Eyes locked on my Callipygian Queen.
The bell was rung in the town square
To wake the village, all were there.
On display for public trial,
The case was clear, I’d no denial.
My Queen sat out at center stage,
Then leapt up in a fit of rage,
“I am the judge and the jury,
Now this clown will feel my fury.”
I tried to state I was a jester,
But I don’t think I much impressed her.
“There’s only one sentence for treason,
We don’t need to hear your reason.
I’ll have your head at first daylight,
Now get this fool out of my sight.”
Despite her wrath, don’t think she’s mean,
I still love my Callipygian Queen.
As the sun rose, my heart, it sank.
The prison door let out a clank.
They walked me out for all to see,
The thing that would be done to me.
Onto the block, they placed my neck,
Where a cleaver waited to connect.
Tortured by the headsman’s breath,
The scent of garlic with hint of death.
The Queen, she stared me in the face,
And then my heart began to race.
Waiting there, please God I pray,
Before I die, she’d walk away.
To my delight she turned around,
Before my head could hit the ground.
The blade was swung, now falling fast,
Callipygian Queen, that bitch got ass.
