I be a godly man I swear fealty to my King
I'm no traitor though they swear to this thing
please, I beseech you, don't sentence me so
mercy, have mercy, Your Highness, NO!

Dragged through the streets tied to wood
horse unaware of my screams and the blood
there to my execution where a crowd has come
I'm hung by the neck till the deed's almost done.

I beg ye, I plead, I'm a woeful wreck of a man
the crowd shout out abuse, cheer all they can
my heart does beat, I can't feel my feet, I'm numb
pain too much, castrated under a late morning sun.

I'm bleeding, I'm failing, farewell they howled
how they roar in approval as I'm disemboweled
the final incisions are made to quarter my flesh
the last beats of my heart meeting an air so fresh.

Alas I'm a wreck, a sinner, a traitor to them
I wish I'd been burnt at the stake like the women
they die in smoke and heat perhaps before death
my pain is protracted, beheaded, draw dying breath.

And when I'm gone they'll all see me up close
displayed in Traitors' Corner my rotting head on a post
they look at me and curse, or fear me or worst
use me as an example to scare those to be similarly cursed.


© .Garry Saunders