A Knight In Pitted Armor Poem by T N McCoy

How bright is Mr. Knight
When standing hat in hand;
His kite might take up flight
With an overfilling band.

Sir Knight would often fight
In modern la la land;
His plight was simply quite:
“You have to understand! ”

A jeer with every beer
Whilst roasting sugar flan;
His peer would often sneer
And label man and clan:

“Tis well for one to dwell
On one’s hot wheated berry;
When your sweet Aunt Isabel
Is really Uncle Harry.”