Pope’s Lock


Pope’s Lock


For a small lock of hair

Not brilliant, not shiny,

Not precious, but rusty,

Lost to the lady fair


They fought so hard and true

Batteling fro and to

Fists banging, swords clashing,

Cries and shouts resounding


The furniture was trashed

Walked upon, thrown around,

Blood was shed, flesh wounded


As, all around, fighted,

All for honor of fair

A lady’s lock of hair.

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