The Oyster and King Bore

Thursday, 02 November 2006 - 2 minutes to read

Back in high school, a friend in the computer club wrote a poem about an oyster who defeated King Bore (the presumed God of Snow and Winter). In a sudden flash of inspiration, I blatantly stole the idea and wrote my own.

It turned out something like this.

Once upon a time, a colony there was
Of oysters, humbly admiring their cause
Deeply they lived in mid-ocean hot
Thus happy they were, and warm a lot.

But those times were gone and forgotten
The warmth had vanished, and the sunlight was rotten.
Storms of winter blew over waters iced
And the colony was all terrorized.

"This curse must be broken", the leader then said
The oysters agreed, 'cause soon they'd be dead.
Then an oyster stepped forth, screaming "Coldness no more!
I'll myself be the cause of the death of King Bore!"

His axe on his side, and filled up with anger
He bravely set out on his journey of danger.
The wind tore his face, threw snow in his eyes
"To h*** with the snow", he shouted, "make way for the wise!"

Alas, if only wise he'd been, and not so irate
He'd have watched for those who'd wait
Thus captured he was, and imprisoned as well
Thrown behind bars, where rats yet dwell!

But bars of iron can't stop an oyster that good
He'd sworn to kill, and believe me, he was in such mood!
He hewed back his axe, and with one mighty stroke
He shattered the bars, and the iron lock he broke!

Through winding passages and tombs he ran
Finding his way through the cells, like only oysters can.
Before long, he stood by the entrance great
To the mighty throne, where King Bore would wait.

He kicked the doors open, vindictive as few
Only to see King Bore, releasing the curse anew!
With sinister laughs to the oyster he turned
Showing grinning teeth, and eyes that burned.

No time to spill, the oyster ran in hurrying pace
And buried his axe deep in the Kings dastardly face.
Blood drizzled as the evil God cried
And left the poor corpse he'd occupied.

Far over hills and fields the mighty King flew
Crying aloud as fear of oysters grew.
Joining the fleeing soul were winter and ice
And left the earth in a choir of cries.

Never again have we heard of King Bore
Seemingly lost in cold space's core.
And from that day, we all love our saint
The hero of oysters, defeating winter faint."

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