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Cathars In the Land of the Angles
In winter's cold grip In the land of the Angles The Good Christians came Against their will to a trial In a grand city Called the Ford of the Oxen Good will be slaughtered By the hands of hot fire The hands of the judge The home's ruler was their judge His stare was piercing That went with flaming outbursts And with his red hair And the king's false overseers Were the proud jury Against the thirty Christians Who came years before Who came to spread medicine To heal the ones sick Cleanse all those with leprosy To raise the ones dead Cleanse all those with black demons All without a fee But to the judge and jury This was dark poison That spread about pestilence And the Good Christians Were flees spreading everywhere Now in England's robe Eating away the fabric The thirty Christians spoke thus "Blessed are those ones Who suffer from sword or flame From rope or prison Or from winter's sheer coldness For the sake of light For Christ and goodness itself For they are Christ's own They are in heaven's kingdom" The jury looked on In their long adorned white robes Clenching their own fists Feeling their ring in their palms "Heretics!" They yelled With that word, the trail ended They were now guilty Still they sang a song of life "Blessed are those ones Who are reviled and hated Rejoice and be glad For great is the light of Christ" As red flames rose up The king in his ruthlessness Had all of them flogged In the sight of the cattle And had their brows burned And drove them from oxen's ford And they stripped them all To wail and die in frost's grip Or be still in pain But they kept singing with joy The king shut his mouth For hot anger chained his lips His freckled face scowled All the cattle were ordered To have no pity And walk to the other side If one is in sight And not pour good oil and wine On their bleeding wounds And not let them find an inn To find some shelter They were in winter's cold chains For nature herself To be executioner Those few Good Christians Still had the spirit in them And looked to the stars Just as Christ laughed on the tree They joyfully laughed They went to this world laughing And left this cold world laughing
Copyright © 2024 David Hyatt-Bickle. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs