She was a princess and fair, it’s true
But there was something obviously askew
Her pendulous bosom hung down to her knees
And caused all of the knights to flee
The king cried, valiant knaves why do you run
We fear those bags are too much fun
Will no-one take my daughters hand?
In response the smallest knight did stand
I will do it, though I may be dealt a deadly blow
But really what a way to go
Crushed by bounteous bosoms I may be
But I’ll face my death with glee
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