Sir Knight

Sir Knight, let me be your page.

I'd care for your lance
marvelously well.

Spit-polish till it shone,
being ever-so-careful
not to scratch it.

I'd keep it gleaming and glistening
using only natural cleaners,
wholesome and bright.

I'd keep it safe from cold
each night, snug & warm, ensheathed.

I'd expose it regularly
to fierce humid heat
to keep it strong, even-tempered.

My voice would urge you on brightly
to victory at every joust.

Afterwards I would wipe your brow
and tuck you in bed, soft and clean,
and tell you how wonderous
you were on field of battle.

Keep close watch till dawn.

Please, Sir Knight, let me be your page.