The Strong Man
Lo, far from the cosmopolitan ways
of the Grand Capitol of Queens Landing,
beyond the wild lands and the Great Swamp,
beyond the burping mud of the Rotorua badlands
and the low rise depression of the Slough of Plenty,
sits the Kingdom in the North.
Dead centre of the desert lies The Hamlet of Auck,
a bedraggled huddle of bordellos and swill pens,
outside the rule of Ministerial policy directives.
Rogues and varmints and brigands
maraud the bordellos and swill pens nightly.
Enough! The frontierspeople come together
to select a Strong Man to defend
the ravaged Hamlet of Auck. Trial by combat!
The little people cheer their champion Chief Efeso.
The merchants salute Lady Viv of the Golden Order.
Across in Bedlam, the inmates chant for Lord Craig.
A crowd of hired floozies do the can can
in a dignified promotion for Wizard Waynolf the Brown.
But hark! To the sound of blaring trumpets
arrives a mysterious figure on a dark horse:
Lo, here arriveth Molloy the Great!
He sweeps through the doors of the low tavern
with a gust of virile potency.
A gang of footpads attempt to pick his pocket.
Molloy the Mighty stands his ground.
“Unhand me, O soft cocks,” he demurs.
A posse of rustlers attempt to purloin his ale.
Molloy the Outstanding does not flinch.
“Weak,” he declaims.
A desperate cabal of pink unicorns
attempt to gag and truss our hero.
Molloy the Magnificent merely chuckles.
“Time for a hiding, woke virgins!”
The rough townsfolk gape in amazement.
Lo, not only is Molloy the Sublime
a Strong Man, but he also wields
the sparkling rapier wit and the urbane style
much beloved of the frontierspeople
of the Hamlet of Auck.