Wandering for days in the woods alone,
a Fool quested along with his guiding bone
To find the pebble of heart carved gold
A task bestowed or so he was told
He thought of his treasure
Success meant mutual pleasure
But he could not find what he could not see
And returned after a mean sting by a bee
His queen was in leisure looking ever so bored
At her feet was a groveling peasant ward
Stolen was his time slot to worship and praise
A deceptive tale now set him ablaze
Later he confronted the giver of feigned quests
And pushed him into the pit of spiky breasts
The fool then reclaimed his 4pm spot
And continues sucking royal big toe on the dot