The knights felt themselves so gallant
One by one they knocked at her door
As if their poorly tested talent
Were enough to interest and explore

Their eyes focused purely on her dresses
She saw through their prods of deceit
Her castle would not receive their messes
Until their charms were removed of conceit

Their suits of armour soon became rusted
As they waited in impatient rains
Self-aware they weren’t to be trusted
And soon tired of playing their own games

What gift for the lady of situations?
The one who wants none of your gold
Deaf to their empty wild explanations
She’s chosen her own heart to hold