The king ordered messengers not to rest
Until all the invitations were handed out
To those archers thought to be the best
In the kingdom's shires round and about

On the appointed day the crowds would quickly grow
Avid to watch the tourney in the castle's park,
Despite the early start and how long it would go,
To see whose face lit up and whose turned dark.


After many hours only two bowmen weren't outclassed.
They'd made it to the final match at last.



The archer, with a smirk, drew his bow
Knowing he was the best shot in the land
And could never lose this talent show
Unless someone cut off his right hand

So he ignored everyone in all the other groups
Until he noticed all heads in the crowd whirl
He was suddenly thrown for a loop
For his competitor was obviously a young girl.

Being the gentleman he was brought up to be,
He stepped aside to give the woman the first turn
He blinked when her arrow the bulls-eye did see
And soon his ego and anger did burn

They matched bulls-eyes with each arrow they nocked
His anger got the best of him and he missed
And his chance at the sure title was blocked
He acted the good sport though he was pissed

He bellowed, "Who taught you for you're a good shot?
She said, "My father, the knight, who wanted a son
He named, dressed and trained me as the heir he hadn't got
So, in my shire, in all sports I was number one.

To the competition you should not have been let in
For the tourney judges only men were to choose
But you truly and fairly did win
For I took it for granted I couldn't lose

Especially to a woman as young as you
I've learned that an ego's view is never true.