Sir Bertram was a skittish knight,
Quite often prone to fits of fright!
He died in service to his king,
The victim of a rouge bee sting!
Bertie was just a squire then.
A joke amongst the other men!
And when his face began to swell,
They thought someone had cast a spell.
No one ever saw the stinger,
They just tried to pull his finger!
When Bertie started turning blue,
They yanked and tugged at his toes too!
They brought the body to the king,
Still unaware of the bee sting.
He saw the fingers and the toes,
Saying: “Great were this squire’s woes!”
“What magic made him suffer so?”
The men told him they didn’t know!
“The lad just started getting fat!
Then gagged, like he’d swallowed a rat!”
“Why are his fingers twice as long??”
The king thought that looked very wrong!
His toes were stretched out like that too!
“What did that fiendish monster do??”
The king would have to make this right!
And so he made Bertie a knight!
It was posthumously, of course.
The lad was buried with his horse!
But Burtie didn’t own a steed!
It cost too much to buy the feed.
He only made a squire’s pay,
That wouldn’t even buy the hay!
This was a necromancer’s horse,
The spoils of war against the Norse!
And he was not a happy ghoul!
His horse was buried with a fool!
He planned to resurrect his stud,
If he could find some virgin blood!
And when he did, he cast the spell,
At midnight’s final tolling bell!
The grave began to rise and fall,
It’s heaving started very small.
A deformed hand burst from the soil,
It made the witchdoctor recoil!
“What happened to my horse’s hoof???”
He yelled over his guard dog’s “woof”!
“Those stretched out fingers can’t be his!!
I don’t know what that even is!!!”
The necromancer turned and fled!
This night would make him fear the dead!
He reached the country’s outer rim,
Before his dog caught up to him!
In therapy he would recall,
Those fingers led to his downfall!
And once Sir Bertram reached the air,
All he could do was stand and stare!
At fingers stretched all out of joint,
Poor Bertie couldn’t even point!
He dug the horse out of its grave,
The steed was grateful for the save.
They buried him while still alive!
Who could expect him to survive?
That’s why the necromancer’s spell,
Did not return the horse from hell!
The spell only brings back the dead!
So Bertie was restored instead!
But he came back confused and dazed,
Which happens when the dead are raised!
The morning bell began to ring.
The two were off to see the king!
And when the king saw them arrive,
He shouted: “How are you alive???”
Sir Bertram wondered why he asked.
Both king and court were all aghast!
A shield was brought before the knight,
The image there gave him a fright!
The shield’s reflection caught his eye.
“Hey! That’s not me!” They heard him cry!
“It looks like I’ve been filled with gas!
Forgive me, please, if I sound crass!”
“There is a way to get that out!
A proven way, without a doubt!
It’s not good to let gas linger!
Did you try to pull my finger?”
“Looks like you did, and my toes too!
But this just works if I ask you!”
A volunteer gave it a yank,
And let the gas out of the tank!
The royal court all hit the floor!
They won’t pull fingers anymore!
They learned their lesson then and there!
It burned their lungs and singed their hair!
The horse was laid out like a fish,
Upon some noble’s dinner dish!
But he recovered rather quick,
And when he did he spied a prick,
He saw it there on Bertie’s neck.
It was no bigger than a speck!
With care young Bertie pulled it free,
It was the stinger of a bee!
The swelling quickly left his face.
As Bertie rode out of that place.
Searching for some magic slingers!
Mages who could fix his fingers!
His toes could use some fixing too.
He cannot keep them in his shoe!
And here is where his tale takes flight!
The story of the Zombie Knight!
