Captain Word's Lament

The taffeta princess wants to take the hill
So we stomp forward to the crest
Why should we give our very lives
Take from the dark prince
Give it all to silken queen
We want a quiet field somewhere
With a gentle milking cow
A child to read our stories
A wife to kiss our brow
Instead we slog through knee-deep mud
As she sips wine from gilded cups
Considers ruby markers on a map
That tell her in some abstract frame
Where our company spends the day
In some forsaken winter bog
To her we are some simple marker
That to win her futile game
She may put in to the box
We have no love for her name
Knowing that our very lives
Are tokens to the silken fox

Please link, don't copy.
This work is Copyright (c) Mike Fletcher 2006