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.”