The Cat of St. Ives (Part III)
Goodly men laid in the ground
in numbers that would all astound.
Others fled, to better fare
away from Truro's streets now where
the cursed French their chance did take,
to raid in Kernow in the wake
of death, they came for all to take
using then the total break.
We, the toast of land a time,
were hated now, for no more crime
than being not so numerous
as to put down the murine curse.
Most the feline hoard had fled,
in face of that unwholesome dread,
but I could not give up so well
and, though it may be me in hell
I sought the docks one final time,
to see what conquest could be mine
before the noxious, blackened beast
could curse the world, cause all to cease.
My heart it battled in my chest,
my feet rebelling my behest,
and every creak and scrap and din,
caused my valour to within
me wither like a child of fear
aquailing at the coming near
of all the visitations dark
that fill our nightmares to the mark.
And all around me then there stirred
a gentle patter barely heard,
of softened feet alighting down
from lofty heights and through the town
my brethren, sistren came along
and putting up one valiant song
defiant in the face of fright
and on into the dark'ning night
determined to put all to flight
who dared demean our feline might.
No comments:
Post a Comment