Really Bad Poetry

I was inspired by Susan Higginbotham and other talented people on the History Police page to write some really, really awful Edward II poetry... The Sad Story of Ned and Perrot There once was a king who adored his Piers, Which forbidden love brought his realm to tears. The devoted king, Edward by name, Criticised by all, yet who felt no shame, Bestowed many gifts on his handsome knight And for his sake turned all the land to blight. "Piers, my love, how I do adore thee! I order you that you must never forsake me. My goods are thine, my kingdom is thine, Ignore the nay-sayers and we’ll do just fine. Stay away from Lords Lancaster and Warwick, Especially the latter, who is really quite horrid." Piers failed to heed this most sage warning, And at Deddington Priory one cruel morning Fell into the hands of the Black Dog of Arden, Who had no intention of offering him a pardon. After a spell in the dungeons, Piers lost his head; The love of a king couldn’t prevent him being dead. "Oh, Piers," sobbed Edward, "I shall never forget you," And threw himself into the arms of his new lover, Hugh.

*** The Beauteous Bride King Philip exclaimed "You shall marry my Isabella, She’s a high-born lady and as such, deserves a fella Of royal birth and blood, and one who can see And appreciate the awesome beauty she got from me." Edward was looking forward to meeting his bride, But when he first saw her he wanted to run and hide; The desirable young woman to expect he had been led Had buck teeth and bad skin, and was very overfed. "What’s this!" he yelled. "The 'loveliest woman in France' Is an unattractive gargoyle I wouldn't take to a barn dance!" "Fooled you," chuckled Philip, "and don’t bother to cry Over the chroniclers' false descriptions; I pay them to lie."

*** Death of a King Near Carlisle in July, Longshanks was dying at last Which to his subjects, especially in Wales, couldn't come fast Enough. The king raised himself painfully and to his advisers said "Tell my son these things from me, as soon as I shall be dead. He must not recall Gaveston, that cheeky Gascon swine, Their lovey-dovey behaviour is well out of line. He shall not bury me, but my bones shall boil And take them at the head of his army to aid their toil. Scotland he must conquer, and that traitor Robert Bruce Must find himself hanging at the end of a noose." With that, the old king sighed and gave up the ghost. No longer would he of his uncommon height boast. His son the new King Edward was decidedly glad That he no longer had to listen to the orders of his dad. He recalled his Piers, of whom we have already spoken, And his father's command re: Scotland was also broken.

Because, truth be told, Edward couldn't care less

About anything but Piers; and thus his reign was a mess.