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The beggar

Wizened by lack, more than by age
The old blind beggar, who does loiter our streets
Unknown to most, is the legend
Behind the tales of Joe the bandit

With his great horde, he'd ridden into our town
The mordacious look, on his heavily bearded face
Did elicit fear, from the bravest.
Our good old town; always his to pillage

The lives of the town's folks; nothing but a trifle
He'd kill to instill terror, at the slightest provocation
But his next ride, into our little town
Had been his last ride, into any town.

A spent cartridge a meter, had lined our streets 
The drains and sewers,  had also run red 
As a weak town's folks,  had risen to war 
Killing the bandits, all but Joe.

Shackled and marched round the old town
His life was spared, with his eyes gouged out
His new image; a message to others
That Old James Town, was out of bounds.

03/04/17

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