Honor Among Scamps

 We are the smirched.
 Queen Honor is the spotless.
 
We slept thro' wars where Honor could not sleep.
 
We were faint-hearted.
 Honor was full-valiant.
 
We kept a silence Honor could not keep.
 

Yet this late day we make a song to praise her.
 
We, codeless, will yet vindicate her code.
 
She who was mighty, walks with us, the beggars.
 
The merchants drive her out upon the road.
 

She makes a throne of sod beside our campfire.
 
We give the maiden-queen our rags and tears.
 
A battered, rascal guard have rallied round her, 
To keep her safe until the better years.

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