• JOHN WORSLEY SIMPSON

Sir Halifax Was Afraid of Cracks

A gallant knight, Sir Halifax, Was terrified of tiny cracks.

A braver knight you’d never need For doing an heroic deed.

But he’d turn his tail and call it quits If he encountered little slits

The sort that spring up here and there The sort that spring up everywhere.

A captured maiden could relax Whenever good Sir Halifax

Rode up on his trusty charger; No hero ever loomed up larger.

And the flames of fiery dragons sputtered If the brave knight’s name were ever uttered

Sir Halifax loved to rout a rogue or Mortify a misdemeaning ogre.

And he got a warm spot in his gizzard Whenever he whacked a wicked wizard

There was extant no evil creature With sharpened claw or fearsome feature

That aroused the slightest fleck of fright Beneath the breastplate of our good knight

And yet he’d sooner eat a tack Than have to face the smallest crack.

He could take a nook, but not a cranny The entire thing was quite uncanny;

The merest hint of the slightest gap Would leave our hero in a flap.

And any courage he might have left Would vanish if he met a cleft.

It did, it’s plain, quite disconcert For cracks are tough things to avert.

In battles, he preferred the lance For it kept his foes at a fair distance

But he’d leave the scene without a trace If he met a rival face to face

Cause copious slits, you realize Are in the visors that protect knights’ eyes

Which is why Sir Hal would never wear one Which helped his reputation as a rare one

And made him a hit with the optometrical classes For he was always smashing up his glasses

They kept things smooth as polished wax At the castle of good Sir Halifax;

There wasn’t a crevice or a chink in sight They kept the whole place sealed up tight

To avoid those gaps you find near floors Sir Hal’s castle had no doors.

Which meant it had to have a giant moat Which you crossed in a big smooth-bottomed boat.

The moat required a weekly fill, Giving Sir Hal a massive water bill.

But he’d rather have that bill to pay Than face a crack on any day

But things got worse as time went by And every bedtime, Sir Hal would cry

​“I can’t go on like this,” he’d say, I’ve got to find another way.

​If only someone knew the reason That cracks to me are so displeasin’.”

​As if in answer to his invocation, His cousin came for a short vacation.

​In days gone by when both were boys The two had argued over toys

The way that cousins often do. They’d had a fisticuff or two.

​But now Roland, his name, and Hal Each thought the other his closest pal.

They’d been apart for many a year, And Rollie was surprised to hear

​His cousin in his knightly diction Explain about his odd affliction.

​Then Roland’s eyes went bright “I think I’ve got the answer right

​I think I know the cause,” he said, “Your fear of cracks is in your head.”

​Which put Sir Hal into a snit “I know it’s in my head, you twit.”

​“No, no you fail to catch my drift, Call for a barber and make it swift.”

​The barber came and didn’t shirk And of Hal’s hair he made short work.

​And when Hal’s head was a glistening pate, “Aha,” said Rollie, “I had it straight.”

​Employing two mirrors he was able to show Sir Hal the cause of all his woe.

Across his scalp, toward the back, Was an ugly, jagged, nasty crack.

​“The reason,” Roland said he knew “Was ’cause I gave the thing to you.”

​It seemed that during a boyish spat Rollie had crowned Hal with a bat

​But brave young Hal never once complained So no one knew he had been brained.

​“Now call for a surgeon,” Rollie implored, “We’ll have your cranium restored.”

​And using stitches and rubber cement The doc fixed all but a smallish dent

​“Now, unless my guess I miss You’ll never fear an interstice,”

​Said Roland, and he was quite right Cracks never more gave Hal a fright.

​He put in doors from moat to tower And guests could relax while in the shower.

To celebrate he bought a suit of armor From a knight who’d quit to be a farmer

​With lots of little crackly bits And a visor that was full of slits.

​And after that he got a post In charge of all the northwest coast

​For the Department of National Revenue Collecting all that was owed and due

​From peasants who to avoid the tax Concealed their cash in little cracks.

#POETRYFORKIDS

11 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Somewhere

Somewhere it’s a rule of thumb You must always chew on bubble gum. ​ Somewhere there’s a school of sorts Where all day long they play games and sports. ​ Somewhere it’s commendable To talk to folks wh

Squiggly-Wiggly Worm

A worm with a squiggly wiggle. Went out for an afternoon wriggle Through the green grass so deep Where a beetle asleep Was dreaming a dream with a giggle The beetle woke up in a while And gave the you

The Boy With a Tail

The trouble with tails, I’ve noted in whales Is they stay on the scene far too long. So, when they dive to escape, the tail never fails To show where they are when they’ve gone. Now it’s perfectly cle