The Woodworm War

 

The two sides stood

On the great divide,

Ten feet deep

By ten feet wide.

For twenty years

They’d held the siege

Of Castle Mud

In County Liege.

A fortress made of

Finest oak,

Its strength was just

Beyond a joke.

It could endure

Every strike,

Be it arrow or rock

Or gun or pike.

The men inside

Were growing old,

Tired of war,

If truth be told.

While those who held

The land without

Had had enough;

Were all clapped out.

The reason for

This lengthy war

Was lost by now,

And meant no more

Than passing wind,

Or breathing air.

No man recalled

Why they were there.

They’d thrown dead cows

With disease

Across the walls

To cause unease.

They’d poo’d into

The castles water

To make the battle

Even shorter

They’d even tried to cross the moat

By rushing it inside a boat,

But all of this

Had no success

As the castle failed

To acquiesce.

Seeing all his men displeased,

The King decided one last wheeze.

‘We’ll eat them out!’ the royal declared,

‘Get our little friends prepared!

Send in the worms!

Is my decree

For wood is what they eat for tea!’

So silently,

When all did sleep,

The king sneaked slowly

To the keep.

And there he opened up a jar

And spread the contents

Near and far.

Now all he had to do was wait

For his little friends

To decimate

The castle walls

The towers

The gate

And then he could eradicate

The foes who for so many years

Had caused so many kingly tears.

For many days all they could hear

Was the sound of munching in their ears,

As slowly the castle,

Bite by bite,

Began to succumb

To the woodworm blight.

By Friday there was nothing there

But sawdust and the empty air.

The men inside had stopped the war;

There was nothing left

Worth fighting for.

‘I can’t believe it!’ moaned the King.

‘Those worms have eaten everything!

The walls, the towers, the beds, the doors,

The bath, the kitchen and the floors!

For twenty years I gave my life,

I haven’t even seen my wife.

And now I’ve gained my victory

There’s nothing there for me to see!’

The losers then all crossed the moat,

Happy to all laugh and gloat.

‘It’s all yours,’ they screamed with glee,

‘A pile of dust for your majesty!’

The King fell down

Upon the ground,

Prostrate with deep despair.

He’d won the war

And lost the war.

It really was unfair.

Then suddenly he heard a sound,

A patter of tiny feet.

A big fat worm came up to him,

‘Is there any more to eat?’

 

If there’s a lesson to be learned

Then surely it would be

That the only ones who win a war

Are the worms who come to tea.