They sheathed their swords up to the hilts
Loyal to the queen they'd been, erstwhilst
Before her madness in quest of the moon
The bridge they'd begun ceased too soon
They followed the maps made by explorers
With notes added by sundry adventurers
And more scribbles and doodles than could
Be expected to make sense of, they should
Their number now in the tens of thousands
Conquered lands across the seas and sands
But at sunset low did they learn the truth
Their quest halted by a mountain forsooth!
Shalah Shaloom, that mythological city
Made the generals exeptionally ****ty
By being nowhere near the ground
But upon the peaks was it to be found
Way up there in the cold snowy clouds
Causing much head scratching doubts
The maps didn't depict a steep mountain
Merely a town, in the centre a fountain
A simple farmer raking the soil
Suddenly disturbed from focused toil
Was asked about the lofty dilemma
Thought a little, arrived at similar
'You'll be frozen by the time you get there'
'If you make it at all, if you still care'
'Of course you will, because that is your jobs'
'But if impossible you'd be off your knobs...'
At that as one they deigned to disband
All to return to their respective land
And as he watch the armies depart
The farmer could not help but fart
A fart of happiness, a fart of glee
A fart of triumph, a fart of victory
For he had fooled them, they who dared
Far had they come, and well had they'd fared
But they had not counted on a trick
Of a farty old man who gave them the flick
By simply saying it was atop, not behind
If taken the road Shalah Shaloom they could find
But they're gone, and it's over, and that's it
As somple as tightening the nut with a ratchet
That fell the blade which the Queen's head lopped
Now there's a King who has no mind to be chopped
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