Our parents had gone out,a dragon to slay.
We’d sworn oaths to remain in the castle that day.
I sat there with Cuthbert. We sat there, we two
and I said, “I would fain we had summat to do.
No purpose must tempt us to leave this, our keep.
And yet we have only just woken from sleep.”
Then a noise broke this surfeit,
and we rushed to the turrets!
We looked, and we saw him jump over the moat!
We looked, and we saw him, the goat in the coat!
And he said to us, “Had to. I don’t think I’d float.
I hope I don’t sound like I’m being neurotic,
but I’ve never been in the least bit aquatic.
And so I’m obliged to leap over such ditches,
for all of us goats have aversions to bridges.”
At this Cuthbert and I could but gawp in fair wonder.
We’d both of us heard what some bridges have under.
“Sir Goat!” I called out from the parapet wall,
“We prithee return on the morrow to call.
Our liege lord and father has gone on a quest
with our lady mother, who left this behest:
that we stay in the castle (as lo, we have done.)
and we lower the drawbridge for nary a one.”
“But surely,” the goat said, “the lady behester
had not she bethought of a gentle goat jester.
Whose dwelling-place is a great distance from here,
and who’s loth to harm anyone; thus have no fear!”
But then did hold forth our wee tabby grimalkin
(though hitherto not known for such things as talking.)
Quoth she, “Quittest not thy sole means of defense!
Tell that goat in the coat he must get himself hence!
He must needs begone and he neither shall tarry,
Or thy parents have cause to thee chastise, I’ll marry.”
“Hold thy tongue!” snapped the goat, “thou insultest thy betters.
Such an insolent cat may be soon found in fetters.
Now then,” he continued, “I’m weary from travel.
Perhaps we can trade a repast for a revel?”
At which Cuthbert and I sore confused did become,
For one ought to give succour when travellers come.
“Very well, good Sir Goat,” I relented at last.
“We bid you come in and enjoy a repast.
Yet of revels and suchlike we would fain decline,
for at this would our father, I think, draw the line.”
Whereupon I contrived me to open the gate,
and Cuthbert dispatched to ask Cook for a plate.
When my brother returned, once the goat ate his fill,
He spake to us thus: “Answer this, if you will –
while your parents are gone on their worthy excursion,
what harm could there be in a moment’s diversion?”
But the cat said, “Beware of diversions with strangers!
Methinks that mayhap this goat brings with him danger.
And thy parents, besides, being gentry of note
it does not behoove thee to frolic with goats!”
“Ignore this grimalkin!” the goat then did say,
“As a goat most genteel, I invite you to play.
You two shall play as a fishwife and farmer,
while I play the knight in your father’s spare armor.”
In truth, I suspected we courted disaster
but he’d broken his fast, and the goat become faster.
In the wink of an eye he’d put on suit and mail
then he hefted the halberd, and bellowed for ale.
“Avast! Tally ho! Stand aside!” said the goat,
“Have a care lest I rend ye from belly to throat!”
Then he pranced with a flourish and turned in the air,
Coming down with a crash on each one of the stairs.
Til at last, at the bottom, he ceased his mad spin,
with my good father’s armor strewn to the four winds.
But the flailing of halberd and hooves as he went
could but end up in hangings and tapestries rent.
Said I, “I beseech you, desist with this playing!
There’s many a thing in the castle worth saving.”
And the goat did reply, “We have yet many hours
to play in the castle, the courtyard and towers!”
And with that he commenced to a whirlwind of action,
whilst I had a keen sense of dissatisfaction.
He played on my lute til the strings had all broken
and every soul in the castle awoken.
He harried the horses and pinched all the maids.
He pestered the Cook, who has quit, I’m afraid.
The laundresses fled as he trampled the linens.
Quoth the goat, “I’ve been told I’ve a way with the women.
I’m a sorcerer too,” he said, “Abra cadabra!”
and thus made disappear all our best candelabra.
But I wot it was time he get out of our house
when he pleaded with Cuthbert to ride in a joust.
“Good Sir Goat,” I addressed him in honey-filled tones,
“You have seen all the castle, and turned every stone.
Yet the greatest of wonders we have yet to share,
and behind yon portcullis is the passageway there.”
And my dear brother Cuthbert, his eyes did go wide
for we both of us knew what awaited inside.
“Make haste! Fetch the key!” to young Cuthbert I said.
“It is kept in a coffer beside Mother’s bed.”
At once, he was off, and at once he returned.
In the eye of the goat curiosity burned.
“I must see it myself!” he said, snatching the key.
Then he opened the gate and returned it to me.
With impetuous haste, the goat galloped ahead.
“We must lock the gate quickly, dear Cuthbert” I said.
“And then clean up the mess the becoatted goat did.”
(For that passageway only leads under the bridge.)
When our parents returned, having vanquished the dragon,
and eaten and bathed, and then called for a flagon,
Our good lady mother said, “Now that we’ve got in,
I somehow do feel there is aught I’ve forgotten.”
“I know what it is, Mother dear,” I replied,
“Thou’rt thinking of one of our creatures outside.
To wit: 'tis the troll who lives hard by the moat.
But have thee no fear – we have fed him a goat.”