Little brother Elestan,

No longer boy, not yet a man,

Was called upon by Queen Vercie.

“I am not pleased with you.” Said she.

“Word spreads swiftly, flames severe

And dire news have reached my ear.

Your soot has dirtied Sire’s cloak.”

In vain protest, the servant spoke.

“My Queen, it’s so! The fault is true.

May I but speak to Him and rue-”

She did not listen to his plea,

But waved her hand and banished he.

Rules held Vercie to her core,

The King’s Regulations four.

They forbade filth upon the throne

And never would it she condone.

Then, one night, Vercie caught wind

The King returned to see his kin.

She sang and He she ran to meet

Taking to knees at His feet

“Oh King, your bride has faithful
been!

I’ve punished he that commits sin.

My heart is still yet pure as snow

So fret you not, my dearest beau.”

The King brought her to her feet

And took to rest in his seat.

“Queen, my love for you is strong.

But you must know how you are
wrong.

Do not condemn the common man

As it is only I that can.

For he knew of his every crime

And wished I’d wash away the grime.

You do not see, you are the same.”

Vercie hung her head in shame.

“How I wish to please you, King,

But nothing to you do I bring.”

The King then said with great
command,

“Bring the man back to my land.

We shall feast and share our wit,

And every sin I shall aquit.”

And so it was the King forgave,

Queen, Elestan, and any knave

Who made his will become their own

And rules were but a seed hath
sewn.