The Knighting Of Sir Mix-A-Lot
Speak not any words fallacious — / Esteemest thou a maid curvaceous / With goodly nether cheeks most spacious?
Worthy squire, by thy troth,
Pledgest thou this solemn oath
To thy lord and kingdom both:
Speak not any words fallacious —
Esteemest thou a maid curvaceous
With goodly nether cheeks most spacious?
Thy brethren own, when they espy
A meagre waist and ample thigh —
Their codpieces do magnify.
Should a kinsman slur thy lady,
Pronouncing that yon maid is weighty,
Wouldst thou denounce the rogue as shady?
By this code, dost thou forbear
To curse or strike a lady fair
Possessing shapely derriere?
Shouldst thou ‘low a lady ‘pon thy steed,
This ancient dictum thou must heed:
Note a cushion’d seat ere thou proceed.
’Tis a circumstance most grave
To find a fundament concave —
Bereft behinds befit a knave.
In sooth, it tilteth not thy lance
When maids engage in quadrille dance
Devoid of gluteal expanse.
But thou hast wisdom, canny squire
To swear that long as thou respire
A bounteous booty thou shouldst admire.
Yea, verily, as thou hast told,
A scant backside is but fool’s gold.
So now the time hath come. Behold!
Savvy squire, thou hast vowed
Esteem for buttocks most endow’d —
Assets to render nobles proud.
True to the code in deed and thought,
A balladeer who fronteth not —
I now dub thee Sir Mix-a-Lot.
