The victor finds it easy to forgive,
free the captive; let the guilty man live.
He can pardon you, before the cock crows
or watch you swing from the highest gallows.
The victor can rape and plunder at will,
suck the blood from your bones till he’s eaten his fill.
He alone, can judge his captive’s intention,
he can lie, distort, or just fail to mention,
That if it were not for a quirk of fate
‘Tis the captive', that would feast at the victor’s plate.