Gypsy Guy
By loquaciousicity
- 2085 reads
Well, Gypsy Guy would rather die than hunker down in chains,
be ridden south with bit in mouth, or heed the hold of reins.
The ruling lot are in a spot, the boss man he complains:
“The gypsies’ soul, I can’t control, my patience wears and wanes;
they will not cede to common greed, which conquers far domains
and furtive spies and news that lies have barely baked their brains.
“But in the court of last resort the final fix remains:
in boxcar bins with violins we’ll freight them out in trains
(should one ask why, a quick reply: ‘It’s that which God ordains!’),
and in the bogs, they’ll die like dogs, and everybody gains.”
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Comments
I liked this. The rhyme was
I liked this. The rhyme was very good, full of rhythm, and came across really natural, not at all forced.
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Terry, I do love your tight
Terry, I do love your tight rhythmic clever rhyming that rolls along, but I still don't understand the last line! Rhiannon
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