Hi there! Now poetry isn't something I normally do but it seems a shame not to put one this up that I thought whilst trying to get to sleep one night. Please read and review!

I, the Goomba, Underling of Underlings,

Lie in wait in front of, behind, below and above blocks for:

The Red Plumber and the Green Plumber,

The Moustaches, the Jumpers, the Stompers.

But what can I, a mere Goomba do?

With my small fangs of small nature?

Against steel-felt boots, rushing fire, crackling electricity,

Or hard shell knocked hard against my soft body?

So what do I do?

Am I a just weakling that must await his fate?

###

I, the Goomba, Minion of Minions,

Stand as tall as my height allows me,

As a guard of a guard of a Koopa King.

Mighty, they call him, devious they say,

But what use is a King of Koopas over mere underlings like us Goombas?

We do not wield glorious magic like the Majestic Magikoopas.

We do not bear striking hammers like the Headstrong Hammer Brothers.

Our only job is to act as delayers

In face of invaders, like those two plumbers.

Minions that we are, we still go out gallantly, many and continuously against two.

###

I, the Goomba, Partner with Partners,

The first amongst them, to go with one called heroic.

From simple beginnings perhaps, but then to greater heights

That we have been granted and we take them gladly.

Knowledge of enemies used now against enemies is listened to at last

And thus we progress on our adventure fast.

And so we don't need a king of glory,

As an example of power, with a bejewelled, shining crown that rests on his forehead but it

Crumbles into dust.

We now stand tall, on the tops of no hills... but our own.