Even though he was the best hunter he couldn't approach the rock unseen.
He stumbled and flipped all the way up to it.
The crowd went wild, such mastery, such finesse.
They had never seen bravado like this before.
The hunter looked up at the crowd puzzled in mid stride,
trying to keep his balance for at least a while.
He knew he should not have had that last drink the evening before.
When he reached the rock he bent down to pick it up.
For some reason he couldn't budge it. He tried again to no avail.
Angrily he kicked it and jumped on it with passion.
The crowd was in uproar, the insolence displayed,
the insult on the Majesties regal rock was immense.
After a minute or two, panting heavily he gave up and left the rock where it was,
He waved hopefully at the crowd for some reason able to walk perfectly straight on the way back.
As he was about to exit the arena an acorn was thrown
even the squirrel was angry and appalled.
The tradition had to be upheld
it could not be denied.
The gauntlet was thrown, he had no choice.
Squirrel and all, came down the seats.
It bragged and bolster about its many feats.
Took quite some time with that little voice.
Armed with a nut the squirrel he charged.
Hunter he waited for ages upon end,
The arena was not large but a trick had been played
A wheel of a hamster was thrown as a ruse.
When snow began to fall the squirrel wizened up
but the crowd had gone home, for the world had revolved.
He sat down sad on the rock,
it moved easily by his touch.
He picked it up and raised it to the sky.
"I won after all, though the arena was quite big."
Back home they cheered and he became king.
Angels came down and brought him under their wing.
The hunter he fled
the heart of the ladies bled.
This story is true
the heroes weren't two
The squirrel he won
and the hunter was gone.
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