Sold your soles?

Old besuited Maik and his dozen bad eggs
He marched them up the hill
and then called for decorum.
On arrival at the other side
They found a shiny palace.
Camel-lot?
Yeah, he had plenty.
One by one they trooped in
flags flying, liveries flailing and trombones bleeping
'Morning', cried Katherine with a C
'Sorry', exclaimed Sam with a D
'Thanks', smiled Yahn with a B
Miles of files in the dungeon,
around the throne room
through the larder
ascended the tower
descended into the pit
circumnavigated the royal tennis courts,
and soaked in the counting parlour.
That'd be a nice place to hang the lance
You could keep a flock of wilderbeast thru there!
The baronets down Flitters Way will kill for those stocks
You can bet he's a goer on the throne
You just can't find a good wenching stone these days
Not like when Edward ran the place
Matching smiles and co-ordinated mail.
Nodding helms and dashing cutlass
Once conquered, the scorched earth and stinky eyebrows
Samples deposited, no other cats would trample these fertile fields.
In search of the mill, they discovered a chapel
The chapel of lost urbanites.
Ancient draughts and crooked nooks
These heraldic arms are forged!
A smiling shepherd, crossed elms
above golden torrets and puffed nimbi
About face!
Pillaged lutes and dotted eyes
Stomping, tromping and gallomping
Saluting, nodding, sheathing markers
Out by the gate, the pheasants strutted
displaying their fineries
Their beauties wasted on callow gentry
Man at arms, plant the standards
Other attention to spill
Other flatteries to deceive
The glow has faded
Leaving seals, scrolls and scripts
settling in the stalls
The fellows have sketched their impressions
Until next we meet,
When i will cross the street