Bad Thomas' Request

Alone at evening sits Bad Thomas, grim,
Pondering the thoughts that come to him
About our fortunes in the coming raid,
And who we can count on to be our aid.
For without all our strength we fight in vain,
And we might lose our shrubbery again.

Where are all those who used to come to play?
The Bastard seems more eager fro the fray.
And while he’s useful as a human pell,
Who else will dare to give Duke Trelon hell?
The names are there upon our marshal’s list;
Swords that for the battle will be missed.

Wherefore then’s the erstwhile mighty Tor?
Must we, without his sword arm go to war?
How can we from his chair pry up his hulk
To reinforce our center with his bulk?
He’ll let us fight without him, I suppose,
While he stays home and washes pantyhose*

And where’s our champion, Lord Vladimere?
While we make ready, why is he not here?
Does he think, that having his prize won,
He can sit back and think his fighting’s done?
But if he truly champions us all,
Then he should be the first to battle’s call.

I could name Lucius, Aldric, near a score
Of those we’d love to join us in this war.
But winter’s cold and bitter frosty bite
Seems to sap their willingness to fight.
We’ll fight with fewer numbers if we must,
While they sit home and let their armor rust.

The loyal sons of Owl’s Nest will go forth.
For honor’s sake they’ll fight for all they’re worth.
And if they are triumphant they will claim
The pride that victory well-earned will name.
But those who choose to sit out all the fun,
We’ll scorn them all as posers every one.

*BT wanted a reference to pantyhose. I don’t know why.