Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

The King and the Cook

Those battles that raged in the mists of time,

No scribes to record them

Or winners to spin them,

They thinned out the warrior class

Until only the Mighty (or, as in the case

Of the cook back at the camp, mighty lucky)

Was the sole general left standing.

A King to lead the country in peace.

The cook, ever humble, suggested,

“Take my daughter, please!”

The King, liking chestnuts, agreed.

The cook thought, “I’m set for life.

Now, if I can just figure out

Where to find a daughter.”

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