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
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