The King's Sword, Part 3/5 Poem by Flying Lemming

He had reached the castle gate
Looking really quite a state
Where he was stopped by a voice so gruff
'I heard you cry the swords not real
And I want to make a deal'
Held out a hand 'my name is Jack McDuff'

Tom took Jack's hand which he did shake
And told everything about the fake
Jack listened hard then he laughed out loud
'I knew it' he wickedly said
'The king is now as good as dead'
Then they both walked off to avoid the crowd

When they had found a quiet spot
They both sat and began to plot
Both trying to maximise their gain
A drink or two the deal was set
A huge fortune Tom would get
And Jack McDuff would be king again

Tom dashed off to get the sword
To help McDuff expose the fraud
McDuff went to the tower up the staircase
He planned to get the fake sword down
And parade it round the town
Proving that the king was a disgrace

He climbed the steps with each large stride
And reached the top and looked outside
The sword was there but he could not quite reach it
He exited onto the ledge
And across did slowly edge
Because he did not like heights, not one bit

He climbed the roof dislodged a tile
Then looked down what seemed a mile
To see the slate shatter on the ground
He hung there for a minute or two
Could think of nothing else to do
Then with a sigh continued edging round

Tom dashed back with the real sword
Thinking of his big reward
He reached the bottom of the fake swords home
He swung the sword quiet easily
But there was no one there to see
So patiently he waited all alone

The sword held pointed to the sky
Inside he gave a dreadful cry
What if McDuff had been found or killed
He thought, then with himself discussed
Had McDuff really earned his trust
With evil thoughts his head was quickly filled

McDuff could be the King's best friend
Who just needed to pretend
That he was bad to earn a big reward
He could have set up the whole thing
Conning me so I would bring
Delivered to the King the real gold sword

Tom slyly looked from left to right
Peering at the creeping night
Then sighed deep and slowly shook his head
If McDuff wasn't a real pal
The army would be here by now
And I would now be either caught or dead

Above McDuff had reached the sword
And prayed loudly to his lord
He'd slipped and now was just left hanging there
The thin cord from the sword was all
That stopped him from a deadly fall
And that, worse luck, had just begun to tear