THE TYRANT
Harry Cumby

Out of the West
And the setting sun
When the heat of the day
Has overcome
His weary troops that
Now must rest
I will attack and
Kill him.

His arms abundant,
His troops well trained,
And mine are ragged and
Show the stains
Of the blood of his I’ve
Spilled before,
And will spill again
To end this war, as I prepare to
Kill him.

From his sword still
Drips the blood
Of long dead folks
Who understood
The tyrant’s greed
But were not able
To succeed in their plans to
Kill him.

The bloated bastard is on
My land
With men he pays with
Bloody hands to burn my crops
And call it “Just”, as I follow
In his dust
And lay my plans to
Kill him.

He hurries now to that
Sacred Place,
Forever known in time and space,
As where he thought to conquer
Yet one more foe
But in his arrogance can not know
That in it’s shadows
His Death awaits
As I spring my trap and
Kill him.

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