The Uberbury Tales: Prologue, Part 5 (868 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: uberbury_tales
Rating: 1.46 on 25 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Orgasmatron (View user info) at 2006-07-25 14:03:14 EDT
http://www.ubersite.com/m/81465 - the original post w/ the beginning of the Prologue
http://www.ubersite.com/m/81638 - the Prologue, the Tech (Knight), the Intern (Squire), the Logger (Yeoman), the Prioress, the Nun, and the Three Priests
http://www.ubersite.com/m/81820 - the Monk, the Preacher, the Merchant, and the Clerk
http://www.ubersite.com/m/83779 - the Lawyer, the Retiree (Franklin), the Haberdasher, Carpenter, Douchemonger, Dyer and Weaver, the Cook, the Sailor, and the Doctor (Physician)
THE WIFE OF LISH (the wife of bath)
A woman from the town of Lish, down south,
Was coyly eating pie with her small mouth
Surrounded by her kittens, black and white
As silent as the slowly falling night,
Her four companions, crated, played with twine
While she flipped idly through a tome of rhyme,
For educated was she, but self taught,
No formal sort of schooling had she bought
Or parents paid for with their savéd coin
(For shame, to neglect fruit from one's own loins)
Her little hands, each nimble, fair and deft
Would quickly turn the pages right to left
Backwards reading, end to front she'd travel.
The edges of her life had unraveled
Slowly at first but picked up speed with time
She'd married early, thought her man sublime,
He proved a cheat, and so she wed again
Until she learned her spouse was into men,
Again she tied the knot, again was burned
He died in prison - she a lesson learned
And did not come undone as loosened twine
But birthed herself anew with choice divine:
She took a wife, from men she did repent,
Her marriage now an unblessed sacrament.
To history her mind would often roam
For yearned she to be free of house and home
And walk the world and see where it began
From Kenya to the islands of Japan.
Below her milky skin and raven hair
She wore a skirt, but underneath was bare,
"I need no shackle, that's what freedom's for,"
She'd say while locking up her kittens' door.
THE PARSONESS
If e'er should piety be given flesh
Or virtue and morality be dressed
In skin and bone and blood, they'd find no host
As true as this woman of who I boast:
A parsoness stood by a wall, at rest,
Her covered arms crossed closely 'gainst her breast
Tilting ever slightly at an angle;
From her neck a score of medals dangled,
Saint Anthony of Padua before
Saints Herve and Volusian of Tours,
Eustochium and Aethelfryth between
Symphorian of Autun and Pauleen,
Saint Praxides and Blaise against her skin
And Saint Fiacre low beneath her chin,
Each one she gathered from a holy site
For pilgrimages were to her delights;
Born to goodly parents she decided
To follow the path the Lord provided
And so she to the Church was married thus
But of her dedication let's discuss:
In youth she played too often evil's game
Synonymous with 'wicked' was her name,
To which she blamed the devil's knotted hand
For this could not be of the Son of Man,
She prayed, found consolation in the night,
And found a way to set her wrong way right -
Her leg, possessed by Satan she believed
Must find itself removed, her soul to free,
At twelve years old she took up business grim
And sliced off, at thigh-height, her wretched limb,
For love of God she lost her very leg
But would not deign to use a crutch or peg,
The miracle of plastic, metal fused,
Resulted in the leg she'd come to use;
Her dress was simple, neckline tight and high
Floor-length so none of her could be espied
To wrist bones came her sleeves, hands capped with gloves
As white as snow brushed from the wings of doves,
She wore a hat whose brim was firmly cocked
Which sat low on her forehead so to block
The sunlight and the wiles of temptation,
Her name was known in pockets of the nation
Where members of her parish praised her soul
For many had she brought back to the fold
By thumping out the Gospel and with deeds
That clothed the homeless and fed those in need,
For never did she enjoy private hours
Her life, a constant working of God's powers,
Yet softly to herself she'd sing a song
And you could hardly help but sing along
For sweet, the notes that blew past paintless lips,
But sweeter still, the figure of her hips.
THE PLOWMAN
With her was a plowman, pacing the aisle
Who talked of weather with me for a while
And how he lived in comfort on his farm
With no surprises or cause for alarm,
Scattershot the traveling left him stressed
In absence of his wife who he loved best,
And plowman's child, the man now of the farm;
He would have prayed if praying was his game
But he knelt to no god, spoke no lord's name,
His hands, owed roughness from what toil had bought,
Were soft as fleece sought by the Argonauts,
A boatman in his spare time, he found peace
Upon the rolling waters of the seas,
His cause, then, for this trip - to slip the sails
And spy with wond'ring eyes a living whale.
THE BOUNCER (the miller)
A bouncer decked in leather, playing Spades,
Knew well the first impression that he made:
The long hair, framing haggard face, unchecked
Allowed him to be just what you'd expect,
An agéd biker, maybe, or convict,
But not a man whose boot would surely kick
Or deck with weighted fist a drunkard's face
To put unruly patrons in their place,
For quick as lightning thrown from Zeus's hand
His hands would move when fisted, on command;
At the pool of life he oft reflected
On knee to Reason he genuflected
As that, coupled with Logic, ruled his life
He'd lovers many yet took not a wife;
The leather, black, framed him in constant night
This man in constant service of the light.
THE WARDEN (the manciple)
From Mecklenburg there came a warden, fair,
Who people thought a man given her hair,
But short-cropped found she best for prison work
"There's less to grab," she told me with a smirk;
No tighter ship was run in all the state
Incompetence she could not tolerate
She trusted no one with the small details
And knew each brick, each rodent and each nail
That rested in her complex, knew the face
Of every man that wore jumpsuit or brace;
At bars she'd waste her hours free from the bars,
To burn away her memory's deep scars,
For physic may bring healing 'round in time
What balm or writ prescription cures the mind?
Vigilant and dutiful she enjoyed
The simple things in life that brought her joy,
She owned no weapon, nor a mobile phone,
And yet was never frightened on her own,
Her wit, unmatched, flew freely from her mind
And could the quickest man with humor bind.
User Reviews
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2007-04-28 13:04:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Unfinished, but still undiminished...
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-08-19 14:16:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
THE BOUNCER (the miller)
A bouncer decked in leather, playing Spades,
Knew well the first impression that he made:
The long hair, framing haggard face, unchecked
Allowed him to be just what you'd expect,
An agéd biker, maybe, or convict,
But not a man whose boot would surely kick
Or deck with weighted fist a drunkard's face
To put unruly patrons in their place,
For quick as lightning thrown from Zeus's hand
His hands would move when fisted, on command;
At the pool of life he oft reflected
On knee to Reason he genuflected
As that, coupled with Logic, ruled his life
He'd lovers many yet took not a wife;
The leather, black, framed him in constant night
This man in constant service of the light.
______________________________________
I will still kiss the lady's ass upon request. . .
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-07-26 11:52:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Character.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-07-26 11:52:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I guess you upset some charater.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-07-25 17:59:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-07-25 17:54:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Effort, no effort...whatev, this was fun to read.
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-25 17:50:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-07-25 17:37:04 (#)
Ranking: 0
I thought alters were supposed to pick up on sarcasm, being born from ridicule and resentment themselves.
hahah Sarcasm is born from ridicule and resentment. Is that why you employ it so 'effortlessly'?
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-25 17:47:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
For your information, I was talking to feety.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-07-25 17:37:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I thought alters were supposed to pick up on sarcasm, being born from ridicule and resentment themselves.
You are an embarrassment to your kind.
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-25 17:33:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:59:14 (#)
Ranking: 0
Good call, deepy. I stopped making an effort here after my seventh post.
(please please please look up my history so you can be awed by my ratings despite no effort at all on my part)
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahypocrite
He slaves over a hot keyboard almost every day and can't resist the oh so witty riposte in his own reviews as well as the reviews of others.
waaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! I don't try at all. waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! suckle suckle suckle
Uber and oh-boy
shitting in a tree
posts rain down on you n me
first, self love
then self pity
then roll tears down feety's titty
Why be ashamed of your uber-love? Embrace it. You make an AWFUL lot of posts for someone who makes no effort. Don't treat uber like some slut the morning after last call. Walk her down the street in the light of day.
I won't snicker.
Submitted by chipolatte (user info) at 2006-07-25 17:20:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
haha glad to help
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:59:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Good call, deepy. I stopped making an effort here after my seventh post.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:54:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
the canterbury tales is actually cool if you can read it how it's originally written. i'm guessing you can't.
i doubt he put near as much effort into this you're accusing him of.
Submitted by livEvil (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:52:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
-2 because the canterbury tales was painful enough on it's own.
+1 because it looks like you put in a lot of effort.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:35:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
~~~OH I'M JUST WILD ABOUT SFAGGY
AND HE'S JUST WILD ABOUT MEEEEEEEEE~~~
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:09:06 (#)
Ranking: 0
Needs less alter.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:02:08 (#)
Ranking: 0
Needs more opera.
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:19:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Your muse was an alter, little man.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:09:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Needs less alter.
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-25 16:02:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Needs more opera.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2006-07-25 15:53:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
nice
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-07-25 15:51:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh, and GET THEE TO THY E-MAIL
YOU HAVE A MESSAGE WAITING, MR. LLOYD GASM
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-07-25 15:48:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
THIS tripe is still going on?!?
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-07-25 15:46:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh, and filename.
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2006-07-25 15:13:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2, thanks for the poem, it really made me chuckle.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2006-07-25 14:16:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-07-25 14:15:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Aaaaaand amazing.
I knew you'd keep your word on this, Chaucegasmatron.