Mind the Horns, My Lady

A maiden fair with brown-dark hair Went wandering where none would dare, Through winding halls of torchlit stone Where one horned lord stood all alone. A bull there was! A bull! A bull! With curling horns and shoulders full! Stamp your feet and bang the floor — The bull! The bull! The MINOTAUR! He bowed so low his horns near scraped The ancient walls the maze had shaped. “My lady fair,” the bull did say, “Few maids have wandered down my way.” “I keep my horns both bright and proud, The finest seen in any crowd. I polish them with patient care — Few maidens pass and do not stare.” A bull there was! A bull! A bull! With mighty horns and muscles full! Hooves that thunder, shake the floor — The bull! The bull! The MINOTAUR! The maiden blushed a rosy red And eyed the horns above his head. She clasped her hands and softly said, “Good sir… they’re larger than I’d read.” He stepped in close with hopeful grin, His chest so broad, his horns so grim. The maiden shuffled half a pace Yet could not quite look from his face. “For such… fine horns,” the maiden said, “I fear they’d quite go to my head. A bull so strong and tall as you Might overwhelm a maid or two.” Some say my horns are fierce and wild! Some say they’ve made a maiden smile! Some say they’re trouble to the core — But none complain once through the door! A bull there was! A bull! A bull! With swagger proud and muscles full! Raise your cups and shout the lore — The horns! The horns! The MINOTAUR!