Against the dreadful Devils of the Dark and Distant Plain, stood one man who dared defy the demons with dreams of victory,

This man with wild heart and ways of bravery and courage, waged war against the wicked ones that terrorized the weak.

The name in which those fiends had found their foremost fear, was Thomas who fought the fray to fortify the free.

He hacked to bits the harrowing haunts who hated happiness, and halted the horrendous hellions and made their home a hell.

These maleficent monsters grew madder by the minute, they mentally marked merry Thomas and meant for his murder

To be carried out in the morning come the first cock’s call. So they carried their crossbows and their crime-creating contraptions,

And stormed up to the city where the stalwart saviour stayed. They stomped and stamped and said “Send him out!

Or we will tear to tatters this tiny town of yours!” And the townsfolk trembled with terror and took haste to obey the tramps.

The peasants pulled poor Thomas from his place, and put him out of their perimeter eager to pacify the petition of the Devils.

Cleaning the crust from his eyes he crossed the clearing, and at the sight of his countenance the cravens crept back in cowardice,

“Rightly do you run you rank and rageful renegades!” Roared the righteous redeemer as his face rushed red with blood.

“For I am Thomas!” He bellowed bravely before the bandits, “And before the break of dusk I will bury each of your broken bodies,

And send your sorry souls back to the Savage who sent them!” Seconds after the sound of his speech stopped singing in their ears,

He shook his sword from its sheath with a shout. A shiver of shame shot through the Devils as he showed his shimmering shield.

Powerfully he pounced upon the perpetrators. With each puncturing push of his blade’s point he pronounced their perilous plight.

Down fell the Devils’ dark defenses on that dreary dawn, due to the deserved destruction by the dear defender Thomas,

Whose face was fraught with fury and whose form was faultless. He flung his sword into the fight and flambéed the freakish fiends.

Their bones he broke with bashing blows of bravery, as their boiling blood soaked into his boots.

The sick, repulsive serpents sought to escape his searing wrath, but his sword of steely strength swiftly stopped them.

The hills echoed their hellish howling as he hurt them horribly, halving their heads and halting their hearts with heavy hammering.

Those wicked waifs were wishing they had never witnessed this world, as their lives winked out one by one with cries of woe.

Throughout the skirmish, Thomas sustained no scratch or scrape. Not a single slandering sword had pierced his skin

Until one nasty, noxious Devil aimed his knife at his knightly neck. Nebbish by nature, the nefarious Neanderthal missed,

And hit the hide of his hip, causing our hero hardly any pain. It was not any harmful physical hurting, but to his pride

That the wound occurred. This thing had thieved his honour, and thence he began thrashing at its thighs and throat.

He had killed all of the other cadaverous creatures, except this one corrupt colossus who could cut him.

Thomas drove the dreaded Devil up a drearily steep hill, with a drastic drop ending in a drainage ditch.

The creature cried out and cursed its conqueror. It contemplated creeping away before its combatant killed it,

But had no chance, for its challenger choked it, then chopped off its head with one choice, championing blow.

Thomas hoisted its head up high in the air and hurried its soul back to hell, as he heaved its husk of a body over the cliff.

And the doctors watch deficient, disturbed Thomas, with his decaying body and decrepit limbs, dangling a duffel bag

Behind the back of the sofa with a box on his bald head, breaking bits of the bag and bellowing about his bravery.

The specialists stand silently seeing this sad spectacle, as Thomas speaks stupid silliness to the psychiatric ward.

He haughtily holds his hollow tube as a sword, and has a humble hamper for a shield.

The workers all wonder what went wrong with this man, and whisper “Why would he want to live in his own weird world?”

Now Thomas notices what the nurses know about him, but the knowledge of his notoriety never stops his endless nonsense,

Because years ago when he was yet a youth, he began to yearn for the days of yore and the courage they produced.

So he smiles at you, in his sweet simple way, as he skewers your sandwich with his self-proclaimed “sword”,

Because against the dreadful Devils of the Dark and Distant Plain, stands one man who dares defy the demons with dreams of victory,

And until the day those demons die for always, Thomas will defend what is right, true and virtuous in his own dear world.

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We had to write this for school... it's an epic poem styled like Beowulf... with alliteration in each line and a break in the middle of each line (the break has a special fancy name but I don't remember it). This is all just proof that you learn nothing useful in school, as I don't remember any of it... but I liked this poem. :P I got over 100 on it and she was rather grossed out by it all.