Of the Breaking of Marshall

We were getting ready to go see "Meet Me In Saint Louis" with some friends today, and there were some emails going back and forth about it, some sillier than others. One of our friends said he was ready for a break; another replied that we would be glad to break him; I replied with the following:

Of the Breaking of Marshall
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Full firm he planted both his feet
Against his mortal foe,
Nor would he yield for he would wield
The White Wuten of woe.
There stood the fiend that he would rend,
And bring the villain to an end.

The Great Faug, how his teeth a-burned
With blood and bits of flesh and gore,
His eyes they glowed and glowered red
For hunger for still more.
He strode apace and closed the space
To eye him in the face.

Then with a flash he loosed his lash
And hail came tumbling down,
But he who bore the White Wuten
Would not be overthrown -
He raised his shield and gained the field
And pressed the beast to yield.

Great Faug he laughed a crackled growl -
Full terrible the sound -
Then shook the land and, sword in hand,
Gained back the anguished ground.
But he who bore the White Wuten
Would not surrender then.

Long time they fought, and many scars
Upon the land they wrought -
The battle harried back and forth,
Nor peace was ever sought -
For Faug was cruel and merciless;
The hero strong and tireless.

At last the fiend repaired a ways
As seeming to need rest,
Then shook his head and ground his teeth
And hurled forth the Hest -
The Hest of legend he did hold,
The Hest of Grammelking the Old.

He laughed to scorn the White Wuten -
The Hest had found its mark,
And broke brave Marshall where he stood -
And all about was dark.
Great Faug his foe had overpow'red
And broken him that hour.

But Marshall bore the White Wuten
And fain he would not yield -
He stood again and shouting ran
Across the broken field -
And Faug yet laughing felt the sting
The White Wuten alone could bring.

So fell his foe that very hour,
And dreadful were its throes.
But he who bore the White Wuten
Scarce knew it for his woes.
And there he lay, and there still lies,
Until the with'ring world dies.