But Sir Mandrin stood ever so still,
to think of what one might will,
a blood bath of flaming feud,
or just perhaps, just perhaps,
a nice little stew.
Of potatoes and carrots,
or perhaps some beef,
a mighty stew of lamb,
could quench a hunger's thief.
Who needs to plunder and kill,
for a King dumb enough to squander his skill.
A knight such as I need not kill,
it would produce such a nasty pill.
Don't be mean, why should I
for I am Sir Mandrin,
just a puddnin pie!
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