A thousand men fell
and a thousand more will fall.
I will let loose all hell.
Tell the monks
to better start ringing the alarm bells.
A thousand men fell
and a thousand more will fall.
Wives hide your men,
give them your gowns
and change them to women.
I will stomp your houses,
I will burn your farms.
Don't curse me,
curse your king
for stealing my fair skinned Gwendoline.
A thousand men have fallen
and a to us and more is to come
blow your trumpets,sound the horns
'cos a thousand will keep on falling
till there is no more a thousand to fall.
YOU ARE READING
Words on paper
PoetryIt's like a fire a growing flame, going higher. It is building up, an uncontrollable wild fire. It is consuming, choking, I can't breath. I've got to let it out someway, somehow, I've got to relieve this weight, I've just got to let go.
