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

Fist 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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