Percival

So it ran like this,

We all saw it coming so we all let it come,

And it swamped every one of us,

And like flies,

We all came back,

To look at the aftermath,

The wreckage of the final defeat,

But there was Percival,

Old, blind, and small,

Buried under the broken splinters,

Of the Old Town Hall,

And he looked up,

And looking like a mole he said,

Absent of tantrums and fits,

"Happiness like this will be the death of me,

I'm glad to share it all with you."

And he died on that spot,

We all watched him do it,

The audacious prick actually got out.

Hell!