The Slave

Once there was a boy who fell into

Depths of peril; renowned was he

‘mong the rising fortunes of bliss’

Wagon wars. He foresaw futures

Grim; he fell by all.

Ev’ry tongue was wagged against him

When none could know his inner thought.

All were joyed by sin’s epistle

All were to him like a thorn.


Who knows the boy so close to age

That men did scorn and sell their hate.

At once they made him sign in blood—

His life’s to God the Father and Son—

He made no vow, but was renown

To be the villainous world’s clown.

Thus all did hate and scorn and preen

They wished to burn him, kill him, scream

At what he did, was worst of all…

Yet worst he did was give his life to Law.

For now all men do hate him so

Who found the one and Holy Ghost.


Wrote Trochees, called them Iambs—

All called that man dumb.


I see men who all sank in the bog.

A silly thing to watch, this salt bog

Desperate to find all of his faults.

For into the salt bog the men sank

When they wagged their hot tongue.

All men shot their split tongue

Like the Asp’s double pronged fork.


Think on this, thou friendly foes

Of what cost it did bring. When men

Turned a head South of his Slavehood.

Ever have laws remissed him?

Why say he’s lawless, then?