A Master of the Written word, am I:
I cannot draw, nor act, nor sing.
But when it comes to writing things,
Of that I am the king.

A Count of Lore and History, am I:
Though it’s true I cannot dance.
With a pen and sheaf of paper,
I tell tales of knight’ couched lance.

A Lord of Poems and Letters, am I:
Though my ballads I can’t perform.
I scribe sad stories with stroke of pen;
The written word is my only art form.

A Duke of Rhymes and Symbols, am I:
I cannot run, nor jump, very far.
But give me some time to write it down,
And a man becomes a star.

A Magistrate of Heroes and Villains, am I:
Armored in tweed and twill.
For though I am no physical ideal,
The most powerful are bent to my will.

A Master of the Written Word, am I:
Though I cannot draw, nor act, nor sing.
But when it comes to writing things…
Of that, I am the king.