Duel

"I challenge you," cried the count, "to a duel.
Of fencing or boxing or something more cruel.
I'll make you suffer, yes I'll make you pay,
For stealing my lady-love's heart clean away."

"Stealing her heart clean away?" roared the King,
"She barely used it with you, my old thing.
I'll meet your challenge. A swordfight at dawn!
We'll duel here, but please don't get blood on the lawn."

The count and the King both grinned from ear to ear.
The duel was a custom, they fought every year
In memory of their good lady most fair,
Who'd kissed them both in one night for a dare.

She'd kissed the count by the warm candlelight,
Then the king by the moon, then went home with a knight.
No doubt she was wealthy, and noble, and hot,
She may be a doll but a lady she's not!

But the king and the count still meet every Spring
To duel on the lawn of the love-stricken King.
No-one gets hurt, and it's all good clean fun,
Then they toss a pound coin to decide who has won.

They usually battle in chain-mail and shorts.
But would it affect their good friendship (of sorts)
If they knew the lady they both so adored
Was not just no lady, but also a Lord.