18/06/2012 by Siddiqui Fayesal
It’s fit for an honoured guest
As you, to have another feather
Stuck in your cape’s leather
For the evils you have wrest.
The sins of your fathers
You have bested.
Upon yourself now you’ve tested
But unknowingly swelled your bother.
They said you were a goner.
Right from the very merry day
When your father in his wooden casket lay.
They said that rightly you were a loner.
Now they hate you for what you never did,
Now they walk with rounded shoulder
And with scowls now growing older
But with secret liking for your saucy wit.
Now they say without vocal awe
That the lazy boy of the hound
Did such and such but magic how
And came out clean from the deepest trough.
But they say not of the good you did
On your journey to the fire
Deep beneath your fathers evil pyre
And doused the anger that your papa lit.
Oh what a sad and bloody finale
To the warrior son of the land
Who across the warring channels ran
Helping thankless Plebs of his valley.
They hunted and they scoured their yards
Just to find him peacefully sleeping
All alone in his fearless dreaming
And they spent a moment to thank their stars.
Up went their spears and sticks
Down into our hero’s guts
Waking him with gore and blood
And drowned him in their bloody Styx!