There once was a town called “Peanut Gorge” in the deepest of forests within the north.
In the gorge lived the fencenocks, some creatures you know, who loved to do fencing, in sun, rain, or snow.
When the sun rose at six, so too did the nocks, who would dress for their battles, in masks, gloves and socks.
What delight the nocks had as they battled for fun, as the joy found in fencing is second to none.
The nocks played together, and rolled as a team, they fenced til their thighs needed Icy-Hot cream.
But the nock king was angry, his glory was gone, and many nocks found him to be Satan’s hell spawn.
For the king was respected way back in the day, but now the nocks wished he would go away.
Inside of the king once lived a warm heart, but with each passing year, his warmth did depart.
You know of the king down in Peanut Gorge? Yes, they call this bad fencenock “Old King George.”
On the first of the month, the nocks gathered for NACs, and would nosh on some beers, and some nocky NAC snacks.
But out from the woodwork came Old King George, and he be like “YO YOU HAVE TO HAVE YOUR EPEE WIRES RUN ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE BELL PAD BECAUSE I SAY SO!”
And the fencenocks agreed, for what choice did they have? To rise against King George? Well, it would have been bad.
For a bully loves power, that isn’t a fib, and George was indigestion after eating McRib.
Off to Milnockee the fencenocks did fly, with their satchels of weapons they took to the sky.
And with their nocky NAC joy, the fencers did fence, as the birdies sang songs, and the dancers did prance.
But just as the happiness filled the NAC room, flew in Old King George on his birdy pet loon.
He charged at a coach, and the refnocks called halt, in order to restrain George from a fit of assault.
And George be like: “YOU WILL RESPECT ME! LOOK AT MY BIG BUSHY MUSTACHE! ISN’T MY MUSTACHE COOL? DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME! I ONCE MEANT SOMETHING! HEY LADY NOCKS DON’T FORGET TO SMILE! YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO SMILE WHEN I SAY YOU HAVE TO SMILE! ”
So too went the joy of the Milnockee nock NAC, over grumpy King George and his nock NAC attack.
The nock NACs went on, and the fencenock fear rose, when King George approached, fencenocks shook in their clothes.
For no one would tell him “return to your home! Cook meals in your stove! Isn’t that the life you want, George, in old Peanut Grove?”
So with each passing nock NAC, refnocks stayed at home, their qualms were ignored, no peace, no shalom.
But on the first of the month came a NAC again, in the foreigner lands of Nockghanistan.
And out flew King George on his favorite loon bird, and his big bushy mustache—it’s always absurd!
He rose to his pulpit, his hands in the air, George opened his lips to the world to declare. And George be like: “I TOLD YOU TO SMILE, I TOLD YOU TO PUT YOUR EPEE WIRES ON THE OUTSIDE OF YOUR BELLGUARD BECAUSE I SAID SO! YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO MY RULES BECAUSE I’M IMPORTANT! I MADE A NEW FRIEND. HE PLAYS FOOTBALL. FOOTBALL IS IMPORTANT, LIKE ME. I AM IMPORTANT. SO, LISTEN UP: THERE WON’T BE FENCING AT THIS NOCK NAC! MY NEW FRIEND MICHAEL VICK IS HERE. AND HE’S GOING TO MAKE YOU ALL FIGHT EACH OTHER TO THE DEATH! HE IS GOING TO MAKE YOU DO THAT. LOOK AT MY MUSTACHE. I AM IMPORTANT.”
The fencenocks did cower. Could these words be true? The nocks knew that Vick could turn doggies to goo.
George looked to the crowd and he wondered who he’d
Select for a fight, oh it gave him such glee!
The nocks could be battered. The knocks could be bruised. But threaten a nock fight? No nock there was amused.
And out from the crowd came one spritely nock, a little youth fencer named Pickety Pock.
“King George, look inside, sir think long ago, to a time in your life that your memories hold.
When you fenced with your friends, and you played with your sword, in the happier days of Old Peanut Gorge.”
George fluttered his eyes and he thought to himself of the wonders of life and the people he helped.
Of the refnocks and fencenocks and coach friends he made, of the wonderful memories that were made from the blade.
And the glory of winning, how great it can be, but when done with your friends? How it gave King George glee!
Not once more did he shout, no more rules did he make, and he turned Michael Vick into Salisbury steak.
“Pick-Pock, I am sorry, I’ve lost my way, in Peanut Gorge, there’ll be hell to pay.”
So the nocks left together, a team once again, back to their homeland from Nockghanistan.
Back to the forests within the north, to the town you might know of, called Peanut Gorge.
And the fencenocks and refnocks gathered in the town Square, to cheer for King George’s return from despair.
But forgive and forget is not quite the nock way, for their strength as a people? It goes without say.
George rose to the pulpit, a tear in his eye, and he gathered his words, the crowd on standby.
“Oh my fencenocks and refnocks how much I’ve wronged you, with my violence and anger and hullaballoo. With my wires and nock fights you were put to the test, I must have been awful, and made you depressed.”
And the nocks looked him over and absorbed his remarks, and envisioned his head on a stake, like Ned Stark’s.
Then young Pick Pock rose and he gave George a hug, for loving and kindness was Pock’s antidrug.
And the other nocks pondered “Should we join in too?” Forgive and forget! Yom Kippur! Like a Jew!
So the hugs filled the Grove, from one fencenock to all, you could feel the nock love, from the Grove to Nepal.
And the nocky nocks cheered for their king once adored, and joy filled the air as their peace was restored.
Celebrations were bellowed as the king walked the street, “WE LOVE YOU KING GEORGE!” was a common heard greet.
So the nocks became one team, no longer in fear, and they shared with King George all their nocky nock beer.
So remember dear fencenocks, the lesson is plain, our journey’s together, there is no food chain. From the refnock to fencenock and coachy nocks too, to the gaynocks and straightnocks—this sport is for you! Neither bully nor king can ruin your story, just look at King George where the tale ends with glory! So be kind to your friends, be they little or tall, and in 2016 you shall vote for Rand Paul.
And so ends the ballad of the forests of north, to a town you might know of…called Peanut Gorge.
Fin.
