The cook stood in her kitchen warm
Measuring her cooking wine
Who, oh who? Quoth she
Will beat this cream of mine?

Sir Daffyd is the man you want
A man both brave and bold.
He will beat the cream to rise,
The cream so rich and cold.

The cook sent out a summons,
And Sir Daffyd was brought.
When told the task before him,
Quoth he, I'm the best you could have got!

Sir Daffyd grasped the poplar spoon
Fast in his mighty hand.
He beat the cream with all his might.
Until his face was wan.

His lady wiped his sweating brow,
His squires cheered him on
Until, defeat he admitted,
The victory was not won.

'Pon his defeat, his rival came,
A grinning foul and wide.
He beat the cream with fierce delight,
'Til sweat poured from his hide.

Oh many were the knights that came,
Oh many, the squires too.
The cream was beat so hard it flew,
But rise, it did not do.

The cream so rich, the cream so cold.
The men both brave and bold,
But all their arms soon gave to cramp
Their might, not enough, all told.

Grim were the faces of all who knew,
Those, who would serve the King.
Shamed would be this hall, all thought,
If dessert we could not bring.

Finally, young Cecil stepped in the fray,
A lowly clerk I ween.
He grasped the spoon in his fair hand
And steadily beat the cream.

Faster! The squires did shout at him,
Harder! They did jeer.
If you beat so slow and beat so light,
The cream, t'wil take a year!

But Cecil heeded not their taunts,
He heeded not their claims.
He beat the cream with a steady hand,
And with unshaken aim

Oh long, long did Cecil beat the cream
Without pause or delays
And lo, behold the cream, it rose
To the squires great dismay

The cream it rose, the cream it peaked!
The cream so rich and cold.
The cook was sought, the cook was brought
To see the cream stand high and bold.

Dessert was brought before the King
With cream so fair and perk.
And Cecil was commended far and wide
Young Cecil the clever clerk.

Aye, many a squire mourned his fate that day
And felt his loss fair hard.
As the training of the pen was proven here
Far greater than the sword.

Written in ballad form, this depicts an SCA event where a scribe was the one who saved the day. I will admit to a little artistic license. Not THAT many knights and squires tried.