Rebellions and Curses

Rebellions and Curses

Heavy lies the head that wears the crown
It must keep the people happy, lest they start to frown
But a voice of evil whispers in the ear of king
Oh, what woe may such advice soon bring?

Gray of hair, sickly and tired of late
A downhill spiral seems to be our ruler’s fate
He hardy speaks to anyone no more
Just sits alone behind a barred oak door

And so a head with many years
Turns to the bitterness of tears
Dark his thoughts and grim his vision
“A king am I? Bah! An object of derision…”

Insanity on him creeps up, in silence
And then the royal crown turns to violence
A wicked plan he conjures up
Only in blood the land next time will sup

“My guards, my knights! My royal servants!
Time is for a cleansing now, say the observant
So may you with my blessing ride
And kill the city folk with merciless pride”

Reluctant were the knights of old
But a king’s plea they’re sworn to uphold.
A massacre began, streets ran blood red
A sword, an axe – a blow to any head

A traveler rode in through gates of West
A ranger old, seeking merely winter’s rest
To folk he called, but answer they could not
They ran to flee the smell of putrid human rot

“ ’Tis not right, not good, not just!
This wicked king we’ll turn to dust!”
And so he drew an arrow, fired well
A knight’s heart pierced, down he fell

The mob looked stricken at this graying man
“Is he mad, has he a plan?”
A fire sparked within their hearts
Thus the great rebellion soon starts

Unto the castle marched the furious mob
Some true of heart, some only to coffers rob
Many fell, but they closed ranks
The olden ranger leading new-formed ranks

The knights fought brave, but soon retreated
One by one, surrounded and defeated
Soon nothing stands between the mob and gate
Dark seems to be the poor king’s fate

After a battle hard and great, of many hours
Two men stand eye to eye in the darkest of all towers
A king still strong, scepter in hand
A ranger old, with a blade he stands

A clash the world had not yet seen!
An awing, violent, bloody scene
Their feet quick dance, weapons collide
And soon the king can take no stride

The blade swift cuts through flesh and heart
A ruler mad from this world departs
On throne of blood the ranger sits
“Against the job of king shall I match my wits?”

And ruled he long and ruled he good
But still not all he understood
For one late night, clouds in the sky
Dark thoughts embraced him, he knew not why….