"Ballad of the Witty Young Squire" by Barbara J Wickham

One glowing morn, on a lone forest road
Traveled two knights. Their squire made three.
They did not expect on such a glorious day
To see a maiden weeping under a tree.

They questioned her gently of her evident sorrow.
“No joy”, said she, “shall this day bring.
For down in yonder rabbit hole
Hides the troll who stole my prized ring.”

The first knight said, “Do not fret, young maid.
For with water I shall drown the troll out!”
But being in fact that trolls do not breath,
His plan did not produce the foul lout.

“Fear not, m’lady. For I have a plan.”
Said knight number two with a grin.
He thrust a long spear into the dark hole,
But no bottom was reached within.

“Oh dear!”, cried the maid. “Now what to do?
Tis useless. I have lost all hope.”
Being yet quiet, but now quite bold,
T’was the squire who thus spoke...

“I think that this is a peculiar thing.
Save strength for other times.
Because the secret with a cunning troll
Is thus, they cannot resist wine.”

The keen young squire ran to his horse
And from his saddlebags brought
A flask of wine from a vintage year
And poured a generous draught.

Quick was he, the thieving old troll,
But thus, not quick enough.
For as he peeked his tiny head out,
The young squire grabbed him by the scruff!

He wiggled and squiggled in the squire’s firm grasp,
But alas, his efforts were in vain.
For as the young squire snatched back the ring,
The troll’s scheme was finally slain.

“This day”, laughed the maid “I have found by his deeds,
A champion right here where I sit.
For where others have failed through force of strength,
A young squire has won with sheer wit!”