I was born in Newfoundland
A tiny quiet town
My mother dreamed herself a sailor
My father would not allow
Of Italian decent
And a great British heart
My father saw himself an outlaw
And that's how the story starts
Stealing what he found set his hands on
Under the laws of Robin hood
Dragging me into his darring quest.
Ignoring my requests to rest
My older brothers loved the part
Of anti hero of the town
With each thing stolen the stakes grew
And so did our reputation to
I was taken out of school, to my father's delight
Hidden away from the world out of sight out of mind
My father fancied me a spy for those in high positions
So to work I did obliged
Dispite my mother's opposition
Then on the eve of my birthday
"The day I became a man"
My father took me to a crime scene
Where I never breathed again.
YOU ARE READING
The Story Of The Red King
Poetry"Our Former King Harold Dawson recites his time as king through poetry" The Red King is a "children's" poetry book taking place inside the world of Hellbent following the tales of Harold Dawson and his past.
