Into the woods crept the strapping young lad
With a warrior's blade on his hip.
His quest was for fame (though money was nice)
So he entered the trees well-equiped.

The battles were tough; as shadows grew long,
The lad thought he'd won out the day.
But then the wolf sprang, with jaws open wide,
And stole the lad's glory away.

Into the woods strolled the bonny young lass,
With a troubador's song in her heart.
She'd come for a rose, but found there instead,
A battle which gave her a start.

With narry a thought, she ran through that wolf;
The endangered lad's life she did save.
She then stole a kiss, and while the lad blushed,
Said, "Stick to the halflings, fool knave."