severed heads (Remove filter)
Keeper of The Heads
The smell is a fine one;
The death of a traitor
is always sweet
The death of a traitor
is always sweet
I feel the pulse of the cheers
echo through the city
when the mighty fall
or the wretched scum meet their end
echo through the city
when the mighty fall
or the wretched scum meet their end
Then they send the heads to me
Parboiled
Dipped in tar
Beautifully macabre
Parboiled
Dipped in tar
Beautifully macabre
And I get to work
Proudly plying my trade
For there's a colour to my craft
and a heritage I'm proud to continue
Proudly plying my trade
For there's a colour to my craft
and a heritage I'm proud to continue
Sunday 10th April 2016 8:33 am
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Stats (To be continued)
17 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
29 minutes ago
Rolph David on The Anchorage Gambit – Reflexive Control
42 minutes ago
Graham Sherwood on Stats (To be continued)
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Tikumtok
1 hour ago
Stephen Gospage on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
1 hour ago
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
7 hours ago
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
10 hours ago
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
11 hours ago
John F Keane on A Cut Above
11 hours ago