Michael Hubbard, so brave and bold, went to save a damsel.
His legs were sure, his heart was strong, his odor like a ham’s smell.
He leapt upon his horse named Jim and rode into the night,
His high-pitched voice sung sure and clear of truth and good and right.
Upon a bridge the Hubbard rode, the clip-clip-clop rang bell-like,
When sniffing deep he almost choked, because of what Jim smelled like.
“Say Jim!” Screeched Michael, his voice was like an emasculated chipmunk.
“You stop to shower, your stench is stench-like, go wash off all your lip-gunk.”
“Ye doofus!” Neighed the honoured horse, the Jim, the Jimmy-Jim-Bob.
“That smell ain’t me, nor thee, but be the flatulating Hob-Gob!”
“A Hobgoblin?” Cried Mike, a’feared of digestive tract of orc.
“Oh now I wish, indeed I do, that I dain’t smell of pork!”
“A pork roast? Ooo!” The Hubbard heard the hungry goblin bellow.
“Come to my chambers, my friend, my pal, my satiating fellow!”
Upon this speech the bridge it tremored, it shook and quaked and stormed,
And from beneth there came a beast, which stank in smell and form.
“Oh poo!” Sir Michael Hubbard cried. “I do not wish to die!
“I cannot draw my sword, alas, lest I poke out mine eye!”
“Off, knave!” Horse Jim, the humble noble beast spake.
“I’m no fool, to trust thy hand to save us from the stake!”
Thus he spoke, and thus he did, that venerable beasty James
He seized the sword and slew the orc, as if in playing games.
And so it was, as sun did rise upon that bloody road,
That Jim on Michael, riding strong, came clip-clip-clopping home.
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