The GenTleman
harriet moss
Where have all the bright knights gone?
Into hiding every one,
Just toe rags, alcoholics, druggies, bored,
Wielding knives to stab, not shining swords,
Harsh shouts of abuse, no soft gallant cries,
Running riots in streets to gain a gang prize,
Selfish youths and yobs to wreck your day,
No glimmer of hope for the babes who play;
No well polished armour ready to defend,
Just baggy jeans and caps and slogans to offend,
Where did all the bright knights go?
And do the princesses want to know?
Locked up in their ivory towers
Proud of all their feminine powers,
They swear and shout and get high and pregnant
And think their freedom is a right that is sent,
The knights lie unused and redundant,
In their cesspit of serpents with their armour so
bent,
And when a fair maiden sits on the train,
Her eyes unfocused on the window pane,
It comes to a halt with a judder at a station
And a man stands up full of male sophistication—
‘May I help you with your bag?’ he asks the
professional,
Her heart warms at the sight of someone so thoughtful,
‘No, no,’ she replies, ‘I’m fine, thanks anyway,’
And the man slowly begins to walk away,
And she stares after him as he goes,
His shiny suit now steeped in shadows.
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