Drunks and headaches....

It was a dark and stormy night
A few beers helping
So he was looking for a fight
Little did he know
That his foe was a descendant
Of Vlad the Impaler.
A fierce fight of broken bottles
And batons ensued
But Lance was also a descendant
Of proud Dark Knights
And had seen a Lot.
Soon others joined, baton swirled
It was a real bottleneck of bodied clashing.
Who was on which side
Became difficult to decipher
So the called for a truce,
Called William and in one voice
Exclaimed ''Do Tell''.
He pondered while taking a bite
In his apple, ruminated,
Was miles away in thoughts,
Thinking of fresh mountain air
While knee deep in beer
And spilled beef stew,
Decided in the end
That it would be best for the  outcome
To be decided by a duel at dawn.
But when dawn came
Guns, batons, swords or lances
Were nowhere to be seen.
All souls were somewhere sound asleep
(Many snoring quite loudly)
And the only thing impaled
Was the scarecrow
beneath which slept a vagabond,
A jester,
Another man's fool
Fool but resting in peace.