The Beggar

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