Wednesday, March 18, 2009

A Ridicule’s Comedy pt I

Sire! The walls are besieged

The men are all sleeping

Women and children are weeping

Awake, Awake, my lord you’ll be killed!

How dare you awake me!

It’s very futile from your part to disturb me

What is this war mongering that you utter?

Go now, and bring me bread and butter

My king to you I am urging

If this enemy from our city we are to forsake

Swiftly do prepare; our people seek protection from your care

Hastily we must abolish this harm which is emerging

-Worry not my servant, I am finally awake; this Keep no enemy shall take

- Bring me my armor!

My Lord, your armor is too heavy!

-Then without it I shall fight; Devoid of its weight I shall be light

-Bring me my sword!

My King, you have no sword!

-Then with a stick I shall castigate them, and from my yard, remove them

-Ridicule them I will, and finally get back to sleep

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