Get thee hence! Get thee hence!
Away the riffraff from my fence
Ye've rattled window and rattled doors
Till there's no peace upon the moors
The hallowed folk have left their graves
To rid themselves these noisome knaves
The tyrants peal rings through my head
Till any room for thought is dead
I'd rid myself this fearsome bane
If I had not a limp and cane
Yet wield do I that wood in vain
For the blighters to abstain
Their laughter loud begins to boil
Not troubled they at all my toil
Surrender I with naught a choice
For it seems I've lost my voice
I must placate them one and all
Returning to them their playball
-
Author:
Rhan Sterling Henry (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 30th, 2026 09:31
- Category: Humor
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments1
Rhan this poem is a joy for its meter joins with its vernacular to make what seems a traditional poem of righteous complaint that with the last line sets the hook with a different look. It reminds me of some of the old folk we used to pester as children and now looking from the other side I see both ends. Lovely a fave
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.