The Barnyard Bard-Knight

A turkey, you see, is a grand old bird,
Roaming yards, puffed up and absurd.

It gobbles with pride, a barnyard knight,
Guarding the way with feathery might.

It pecks out secrets in old rune script,
With wings that appear as though they've been dipped.

Its beak, a lance, charges the breeze,
Patrolling the place with chivalrous ease.

A fowl of honour with eyes so keen,
Terrifying folks, it's a true war machine!

It struts through the yard with a dignified air,
Chasing off rats who dare even stare.

Its feathers are armour, majestic and stout,
A stylish distraction when unwanted guests come about.

It's great for a laugh, a true jester of sorts,
Fumbling and bumbling in turkey-esque sports.

It'll gobble and prance, a dramatic display,
Turning dull afternoons into lively hoorays.

And if ever you need a good, hearty chuckle,
Watch it attempt a high-flying bustle.

Its gobbles are music, avant-garde tunes,
Perfect for scaring off sneaky raccoons.

It recites with gusto in gobbledy verse,
A poet of fables both epic and terse.

Its wings can perform a theatrical sweep,
Fanning me cool as I drift off to sleep.

A master of drama, it knows how to pout,
When you deny it a snack or leave it without.

So bring me a turkey, a seasonal guard,
A feathered companion, a long bearded bard!

I promise this bird shall become no culinary feat.
Just a gobbler companion, not something to eat!


This poem was inspired by the Occultist formerly known as Lemon Ni'Choya's poetic masterpiece by a similar name.



Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Chronos, in the year 960 AF.