Parody of Lochinvar (With due apologies to Sir Walter Scott)

Oh, young Lochinvar has come out of the West,
Through all the wide border, it was agreed he was a pest
And save the sense to walk and talk, brains he had none,
No riddle could he answer, nor understand a pun
So foolish in actions and such a laggard in war,
He was a standing joke - the young Lochinvar

He traipsed across the woods and fell flat on a stone,
He swam the Eske river with many a groan
'Ere he cricked his leg as he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride choked on her water when she saw his limping gait:
Quoth she, "This fool in actions, this laggard in war,
Is he my bridegroom to be - the young Lochinvar?"

"Aye," siad her father and in assent he gave a nod
And the poor bride fell as though struck by a rod
Unconscious as a stone, white as a sheet,
Lay the fair beauty at her father's feet
Her father deciding that this had gone a bit too far,
Gave a firm kick and sent out flying the young Lochinvar

"I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied,
Love swells like the Solway but ebbs like its tide
And now I have come with this lost love of mine
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!"

From outside the gates he thus shouted with all his vigour
And from inside was greeted with many a hearty gale and snigger
Then a bodiless voice called out -"Then be gone, my lad,
Start your search, surely you'll find a bride not too bad,
But spare my dear daughter, her life please don't mar,
There are maidens in Scotland that would gladly be your bride, Lochinvar!"

For once in his lifetime, Lochinvar stound his ground,
He called out, "Nay, by the bond of love am i bound"
And with a whoop of "Beware, you schmuks, here i come!"
He barged in leaving all gaping and mum
The unconscious bride he picked as though she were a flow'r
And with her on his back, off strode young Lochinvar

One slap on his hand and a box in his ear,
When they reached the hall door and the sentinel stood near
So lightly from Lochinvar the fair lady he swung,
So gracefully onto him the sentinel bodily sprung!
"She is won, he is gone, he lies there like a squashed jar,
Oh, isn't he in a sorry state, the poor, young Lochinvar?"

With a million stars chasing around in his head
Lochinvar lay gasping on his dusty bed
All the remaining sense knocked out of him,
The hope of winning the princess just a distant whim
So foolish in actions and such a laggard in war,
He was a standing joke - the young Lochinvar

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