Forty Feet of Henchmen
They stomp the ground
They curse out loud
They wear knickers
Old fashioned style
They tend horses
When money forces
Them into a productive endeavour
Ask them if they enjoy this,
They'd say, "Oh my God, Never!!!"
These foul souls pollute
the world
They and their secretive society,
Seems the only time they appear human,
Is when they've lost their sobriety
They're the hemorrhoids
of the human race,
Abusers, users, accusers,
They fulfill no useful role
And if it was up to them,
You'd be six feet inside the hole
Henchman, henchman,
Where are your golden words?
Henchmen, henchmen...
Your "truth" naught but turds
You stand twenty deep,
So forty feet you do keep
Time you left this peaceful valley
Or our forces we will rally,
And smite you to the ground,
While hearing your pleading sound,
So leave, and leave right now,
Or your end, by God, we vow!!
Copyright © Tom Bell | Year Posted 2007
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