re: Things you swear by

quote:

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you should kill yourself for your poetry

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You Laugh, but I actually wrote a little gallows humor rhyme about that very thing.

And it even gives a TD specific shout out.

This is your fault

And yes, it ends with my (the narrator's) execution, so you can take pleasure in that.

Seven Souls

Well seven souls sat in a prison cell,
On charges that were brought,
Yes they had been condemned to die,
They were a sorry lot,
Murder, arson, rape and more,
All awful crimes considered,
But number seven was the worst, his charge was that he littered

The headsman walked into the room,
Said to the first, "you're dang-ed ."
"I've just the rope to stretch your neck,
For you are to be hang-ed."
"And number 2, we'll just for you,
I've sharpened up me axe,
Your head will roll off with your soul,
For ye did not pay tax."

To number 3, said, "here ye see,
My darling flensing blade,
I hope that it's a-peeling,
For you are to be flayed."
"Aye lad, you don't deserve this,"
To murd'rin' number four,
"They've brought an awful poet,
And you to death he'll bore."

Then with a little titter, he said to quailing Five,
"For crimes of subpar cooking, ye shall be boiled alive,
But come now lad, it's not so bad,
Let's just see how the day goes,
We're adding in some carrot skins,
Peas, parsnips and potatoes."

Then six stood in defiance, said,
"Is this some sort of joke?
I burned down half the town, jaywalked,
And sodomized a bloke,
I've done at least a thousand crimes,
Don't make this any long'a."
The headsman raised pineapples up,
Said, "Death by Onga-Bonga."

At last you see, he turned to me,
Said, "You're the worst of all 'em,
Yeah you'll get just what you deserve,
I sees 'em like I call 'em."
"But mercif'lly I'll do it quick,
Be gone before you know,
I'll squish your skull just like a grape,
With one warhammer blow."

And so they led us off to die,
Towards cauldron, block and gibbet,
But worst, see, was the poetry,
Twas such a grim exhibit,
For sure he'd killed, but even still,
A horrid way to go,
The poet read 'til his ears bled,
His name was Cocomo,

The fruits were shoved, and cook made grub,
The headsman was a-flaying,
The noose it jerked, his axe did work,
With jaunty tunes a-playing,
Now I was next but was I vexed?,
Nay, be I fool or felon,
The headsman said, "I'll smash your head,
Just like it were a melon."

He raised his hammer high,
And with a smile went I,
He brought his hammer down upon my head,

But my brow did not break,
He'd made one last mistake,
His mighty blow just bounced right off instead,

The judge said I was free,
He gets one shot you see,
And on that very night well I was wedded,

How did I keep my life?
You need only ask my wife,
She'll say there's none alive that's more...

Hard-headed.