males telling tales over ales

a bard with missing teeth
and a dirty, smelly thief
sat down telling tales
over misbegotten ales.
they sat on a tavern bench
to discuss a certain wench.
"she's mine!" the thief cried,
to which the bard replied:
"my friend, can't you see?
she belongs with me."
so they argued long and hard,
did the thief and the bard.
they argued into the night
and there may have been a fight,
but for the timely arrival
of she for whom they were rivals.
there she came, that lovely wench.
hips swaying, she passed the bench
"there she is," said the thief,
and the bard stared in disbelief.
but there she was, beauty fine,
and both thought: "she's divine!"

the 'wench' came into the tavern,
as dimly lit as a cavern
it was, so dark and so dank
and the smell of sweat so rank,
that she dared not inhale,
as the air was rotten and stale.
but though it was dark and grim,
she pushed through the din
of dirty and rowdy patrons
and girls with soiled aprons.
somewhere within this place
a man lay with his face
in a sodden pool of ale
and vomit upon a table,
as was his custom nightly;
a disgrace most unsightly.
his daughter it was who came,
worried he may besmirch his name,
at the same time every night
to rouse him from his plight.
and so it was once more
that she walked through the door,
through the murky gloom
of the smoky room,
when whom did she espy
as she was walking by,
but two men telling tales
staring at her over ales.

"come sit upon my bench,"
said the thief to the wench.
"are you jesting?" said the wench,
"you give off such a stench!"
"Don't mind him," said the bard,
"he always tries so hard,
but what he thinks ingratiation
comes across as desperation.
come to me and you will see
it is with me that you should be."
the wench began to laugh
and said "are you daft?
for toothless as you are,
your friend is better by far."
with that she walked away,
and thief to the bard did say:
"that wench will love me yet,
though she plays hard to get."
"forget it," said the singer,
"she's wrapped around my finger."
the girl retrieved her drunken father,
who could not see she was his daughter,
and brought him through the gloom
of the dirty, smoky room,
past the thief and bard
who were trying very hard
to pretend they didn't care
and that they didn't stare.
then when she had gone,
they both looked forlorn,
and like all rejected males,
they returned to their ales.