He waits in ambush
Down the road of time
Around some bend
Atop some lonesome hill
That black highwayman waits
To do his loathsome task
Inexorably,
The road draws closer
To this abomination
Who waits to pounce
Some tired misfortunate
Whose time runs out
I cannot dodge his keen
And ****** scythe
I'll be tremblin
Perhaps wailing with remorse
On this untimely day
At odds with my demise
For before I go
I hope to frequent
All the taverns
Quaff the potent elixirs
And dance with all
The dark eyed girls I can
To test each proven pleasure
Invent a few myself
Until I know for sure
I've had a chance to taste
The last sweet drop of life
Before that final rasp
Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010 at 10:49 AM UTC
He waits in ambush
Down the road of time
Around some bend
Atop some lonesome hill
That black highwayman waits
To do his loathsome task
Inexorably,
The road draws closer
To this abomination
Who waits to pounce
Some tired misfortunate
Whose time runs out
I cannot dodge his keen
And ****** scythe
I'll be tremblin
Perhaps wailing with remorse
On this untimely day
At odds with my demise
For before I go
I hope to frequent
All the taverns
Quaff the potent elixirs
And dance with all
The dark eyed girls I can
To test each proven pleasure
Invent a few myself
Until I know for sure
I've had a chance to taste
The last sweet drop of life
Before that final rasp
Copyright Louis Brown- From OLD MACON ROAD and Other Poems
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